A General Agreement of What Is Going On
by MildlyMiffed
Summary: What's one to do when suddenly you're waking up in the wrong bed, in the wrong house, in the wrong country, and on top of it all, you've somehow swapped bodies with a bloody perverted frog? You get to the bottom of it, of course. And hope that no one else blames you along the way. [Multi Body-swap] HIATUS.
1. In Which A Discovery Is Made

_Ok, so this is my first story, ever. It also the first chapter of a potential multi-fic. I have a general idea of where this is going, but nothing is set in stone. I also have not a whole lot of motivation to finish this, BUT I WILL TRY! _

_I've decided to put a spin on a typical fan fiction story senario. I hope that it goes over well with all you wonderful people out there who might read this. I tried to make it humorous, so hopefully you find it kind of funny._

_So, uh, the rating on this is T due to one case of swearing, however in later chapters you can be sure to know that the swearing will increase (rating will stay the same)._

_Hope you like it... and oh yeah, I OWN NOTHING EXCEPT THE STORYLINE!_

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><p><em>5:58<em>

_5:59_

_6:00_

_Click_.

"_Nous on fait l'amour, on vie la vie. Jour après jour, nuit après…__"_

England stirred under the covers of the bed, refusing to open his eyes. He was already wide-awake, and he was completely aware that something wasn't quite right. He tried to convince himself that there was a perfectly reasonable explanation for the problem he had come across as soon as he had awoken, but he could not deny the facts.

This wasn't his bed. It felt wrong.

_Maybe I'm just lying in it differently than I usually do._

That wasn't his alarm. His was the simple beeping kind.

_I could have switched the classic alarm to radio when I wasn't paying attention._

The radio wasn't even playing in English.

England listened a bit longer. _No, definitely not English. If I didn't know any better I would say that it's in French…_

"Oh, Bloody HELL!" England yelled, sitting up straight, covers pooling around his waist. Eyes wide in panic, he immediately became aware of a few other key facts.

It was definitely not his bed.

_No._

It wasn't even his room.

_Oh no. No, no, no, no!_

It was France's room.

_NO, NO, PLEASE GOD NO!_

And lying beside him in bed was…

_PLEASE tell me I didn't…_

No one.

_Oh._

England relaxed slightly, not quite ready to believe that France wasn't hiding around some corner, waiting for the chance to do France-things. But now that the initial panic was fading, he was beginning to realize some other important details.

The other side of the bed didn't look slept in.

_Oh, thank god._

He felt kind of funny. Like weird funny.

_Maybe I'm coming down with something..._

He could also feel his hair brushing the side of his jaw.

_Ok, not that important, but I swear my hair isn't that long._

And staring back at him from the mirror across the room was France.

Screaming in surprise (_it was a manly yell_), England jumped back against the headboard. Mirror-France did the same thing, at the same time.

_What...?_

Opening his mouth to berate France for scaring him like that (_I wasn't scared, just a little surprised_), England froze, the last vestiges of sleep wearing off, leaving him with a clear mind.

He was looking at a mirror – a mirror that should have been reflecting his own image. A mirror that was instead reflecting the image of France – France sitting exactly where England was sitting, France moving exactly how England was moving, France widening his eyes in realization in an expression that England _knew_ was mirrored on his own face.

_My own face...?_ England thought, a small doubt worming it's way into his mind. He cautiously reached up to touch his face, hand brushing past his unusually long hair. The reflection of France did the same thing. _No, this… this isn't my face._ England grabbed a lock of his hair. _This isn't my hair_. He looked at his hand, his arm, his body. _Not my body… This isn't my body. This is…_ England looked back at the mirror, finally putting it all together.

_This is France's body. I'm in France's body._ England cringed. _Oh God, that sounds so WRONG. _England shook his head, trying to focus. _What is going on…?_

Pushing off the covers and standing up, England blushed when he realized that the body he was using wasn't wearing any clothes. _Of course that __wanker__ wouldn't wear __pyjamas to bed. _Casting the thought aside, England decided that before proceeding with his meltdown, he should at least have the decency to go and clothe himself.

Pulling out the first things he saw from France's closet, England soon found himself dressed in a pair of black pants and a blue t-shirt that in his opinion were far too tight to be comfortable. _Why must France always have such tight clothing, _he thought_. He's a man, and he should dress like one. _England pulled at the shirt that clung to him like second skin, frowning._ Not like some wayward teenage boy. _

Walking back across the room, England was once again startled upon seeing France's reflection in the mirror. _Blimey, this is strange. _He walked, somewhat inelegantly, towards the reflective surface. Leaning forward and placing his hands on the glass, England stared into the full-length mirror.

"What in the _bloody hell_ is going on?" England whispered to himself, except that hell sounded like 'ell, and England realized that not only did he have to _look_ like France, but he had to _sound_ like him as well. _It could be worse,_ he thought_, at least I don't sound like some bumbling American idiot._ Breathing in deeply and closing his eyes, England tried to calm his thoughts, focusing completely on the problem at hand.

_It could be a dream,_ he thought,_ -no, not a dream, a nightmare. _England frowned. _But if I were dreaming, I wouldn't be standing here wondering if I was dreaming. _He grimaced at the complicated thought._ Also, it feels too real to be a dream._ Just to test that last thought, he took his right hand off the mirror and pinched his left arm. Wincing slightly at the pain, England opened his eyes a crack. He immediately closed them again upon seeing France's face staring back at him from the reflective surface. _Unfortunately, it seems like it's not a dream._

Sighing, England pondered the events of the previous night, thinking that perhaps this may lead to the answers he was looking for.

..._But nothing happened last night._ England opened his eyes. _Absolutely nothing. _He took his hands off the mirror, crossing his arms in front of him. _I didn't even talk to any of the other nations yesterday, let alone do something with France that would have led to this._ England blinked a few times, trying to get used to feeling of having a different face. It felt extremely weird being in another body. Kind of like being sick, except there was no coughing or sneezing. Sort of like that feeling you get in your stomach when you drive over a hill, and for a second you feel like you are falling while still sitting down. Everything just felt _off_.

Coming back to the issue of _what happened_, England continued to sort through his mind for an answer. _I didn't even touch my spell books last night,_ he thought,_ not that I would EVER want to switch places with that perverted Frenchman..._ England paused. _Switch places...?_

Realization hit him like a train. Eyes wide, England stumbled back from the mirror, desperately looking for a phone. It was obvious now. If England was here in France's body, then where would France be?

Where else could France be?

_He… he's in my body. _

England spied France's cell on the nightstand across the room.

_That bloody __wanker__ is in MY BODY. _

He rushed over to the phone, picking up the device and gripping it tightly in his hand.

_He's FRANCE and he's in MY BODY, and OH GOD THE THINGS HE COULD BE DOING!_

England dialed France's number, his mind already conjuring up the worst possible scenarios. _For all I know, he could already be... _His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a phone ringing from somewhere in the house. _What...?_ England looked at the phone in his hand, realizing his mistake. He had called France's house – _this _house. England berated himself for his foolish blunder. _Now is not the time to be losing focus. _Frowning, he canceled the call, and then dialed his own house number.

"Ring…"

_Pick up…_

"Ring… Ring…"

_Come on… pick up the phone._

"Ring… Ring… Ring…"

_Come ON…_

"Ring… Ring… Ri-"

"PICK UP THE GODAMN BLOODY PHONE!" England yelled into the device, losing all sense of patience. That was when England realized that not only had the ringing had stopped, but that someone had just picked up the phone, someone who had more than likely just heard his little outburst. There was a moment of awkward silence, then...

"Angleterre…?" The voice on the other end sounded hesitant, uncertain. "Is that you?" The voice sounded British. The voice sounded just like England's.

England froze, not knowing what to say. He hadn't quite planned this far ahead, and hearing his own voice talking on the phone threw him off guard. But staying silent was not going to fix this whole body-switching situation. Finally, he managed a reply.

"Oui, c'est moi," he said, only belatedly realizing that he had answered in French. _What… I don't even know French…_ England started panicking, _how was I able to say that… what did I even say?_ Holding the phone slightly away from his face, England exhaled deeply, closing his eyes. _It must be some sort of instinctual muscle memory,_ he thought, pinching the bridge of his nose,_ or something like that… Damn._ He became aware that British-France was speaking to him.

"My God, you sound just like me…" France breathed, and England realized that his long-time rival was probably just as confused and freaked out as himself.

"France?" England said cautiously, knowing he should confirm that it _was_ indeed France in the British nation's body, and not some other wayward idiot. "It _is_ you, right?" _It has to be, it's not like it could be anybody else…_

"Of course its me." France replied, as if it were obvious.

England frowned. He just _knew_ that France was standing there waving his hand dismissively in a France-ish manor. England frowned further, realizing that it would actually be his own hand flopping around like a dead fish now that France was in England's body. "I was just making sure," he ground out, starting to feel annoyed at the Frenchman.

"Huh," France said condescendingly, "_making_ _sure_ is for those who _ne sait pas comment vivre._" The British accent made the French words sound awkward, and England cringed. Hearing his own voice forced to speak that perverted language unsettled him.

But France wasn't done. "What have you _done_, Angleterre?" He accused. England tried to interrupt with a "You think this is _my_ fault?", but France continued, ignoring England's protests. "I woke up this morning with themost _horrendous_ face I have _ever_ seen in place of _my _beautiful visage."

"Why you–" England spluttered angrily, but was once again cut off by an obviously unhappy Frenchman.

"I also talk like a leprechaun…"

"What!"

"…and look like an ugly gnome with hairy tumors for eyebrows." France finished.

"Would you SHUT UP!" England yelled into the handheld device, trying to control the urge to throw the cell phone across the room.

"But they just keep growing bigger." France whined into the phone. "How do you keep them under control? I swear the left one has started whispering things to me." France finished quietly, as if he were being watched.

England stared blankly ahead, eye twitching ever so slightly due to the strain of keeping his emotions in check. He was gripping the phone far too tightly and he could feel the device creaking in his hand. _If only this was his face… _He vowed that regardless of the situation in the next major war, he would find a way tocompletely_ destroy _that French bastard. Breathing in deeply, England tried to bring his thoughts back to the current situation. He held his breath for a fraction of a second, allowing his mind to clear, then let his lungs expel the air. "France," he began calmly, "please… focus for just a second." England paused, and mercifully, France was silent. Closing his eyes, England continued speaking. "As you seem to have noticed, we have a bit of an issue that needs to be solved." He managed to grind out that fairly reasonable sentence through his clenched teeth.

"The issue of eyebrows…?" France unreasonably offered in question.

England blinked. Then, overcome by annoyance and exasperation, yelled into the phone. "Not the bloody eyebrows, you frog! ITS THE GOD DAMN BODY-SWITCHING!" He took a quick breath before continuing. "I would have thought that being in _my_ body would have given you some measure of intelligence but it seems as if I was mistaken. You are obviously the same idiotic git you have always been!" England seethed. _Why can't he ever take anything seriously? He's a bloody fucking country, seriousness should be in his nature! _Taking a moment to compose himself, England rubbed the sleep from his was hard to believe that it had only been fifteen minutes since he had woken up. _This is going to be a very, very long day._ A small cough could be heard coming from the other end of the phone. France had something to say.

"What?" said England wearily, not ready to deal with any more of France's antics. He could hear France moving around slightly on the other end of the line before the French nation spoke up.

"I suppose that this _is _somewhat of a serious situation…" France trailed off sheepishly.

"I'm glad you finally agree." England bit out angrily. _I can't believe he said that my left eyebrow talks to him._ The British nation sat down on the king-sized bed. _He should know that only the right one talks._

"How did this even happen?" France asked, finally focusing on the problem at hand.

"I have no idea." England answered truthfully. "I was trying to figure it out before I called you, but I couldn't come up with anything."

"What about those _films stupides_where they switch places and have to learn to appreciate–"

"Never," England cut in harshly, "will I appreciate you _or_ your life style."

"Well that is a good thing, _mon ami_," France responded in kind, "because I will also never appreciated you or yours. What with all your knitting and your complete lack of _l'amour._"

"Can you _please_ stop talking in French? My voice was not meant to croak like that."

"I am doing your voice a favor. God knows it needs a break from your awful British vocabulary."

England paused for a second. "And what's that supposed to mean?" he asked.

"It means that all your 'bloody hells' and 'buggers' and 'twits' and 'bollocks' are terribly aggravating to listen to," France responded condescendingly, "and they are just plain annoying," he added as an afterthought. However, the apparently annoying British vocabulary sounded perfectly fine in France's new (and unwanted) British accent. England huffed in disagreement, but decided to not argue the point. He had neither the mood nor desire to participate in another verbal sparring match with the French nation.

England sighed resignedly. He was coming to the conclusion that it was perhaps time to get to the more 'serious' part of this conservation; the 'what to do now?' part. He was in France's body, and France was in his. At the moment it might just seem like an annoyance, but for all they know, it could turn out to be permanent. "France," he began seriously, "about this whole body-switching thing, we need to figure some things out."

There was a moment of silence, then France asked a simple "What kind of things?"

"Well, I suppose we should agree not to deface each other's body with tattoos and the like." England sounded somewhat disappointed when he said this. He had been rather looking forward to getting a tattoo of the British flag on France's forehead. It would have made the French nation a little more bearable to be around. He did not, however, want to return to his own body and find 'Property of France' printed on his ass. That would be, if nothing else, extremely disturbing.

"I suppose that's true…" France reluctantly agreed. He sounded equally as disappointed.

"And to not do anything unspeakable to our temporary bodies. Anything involving beds and other people is out of the question."

"But I'm the country of _l'amour_ –"

"Not anymore," England cut-in hastily. "I don't want to see _my_ body running around molesting people in some perverted fashion. For the time being you are The United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland and you bloody well act like it!"

"No need to yell. I understand completely," France responded smugly. "You can't bear to see _your_ body do things that _you_ have never been able to manage. Isn't that right, _mon ami__? _"

"Oh shut up, you frog!" England fumed, "And what did I say about the French. I absolutely can't stand to hear my voice speak like that."

"It is in my nature. A simple issue like changing bodies is not going to stop me from being who I am."

"You know what, _fine_! Keep speaking in that perverted language," England relented, "but you _will_ _not_, under any circumstances, go around flirting with other people and touching them in places that should not be touched," he added seriously.

England could just hear France smile. "For now, I will agree to that compromise. But this means I will be asking something of you in the near future."

"Fine," England accepted. "In the mean time, I think that we should refrain from telling our bosses about our situation. If we can figure out how to reverse it in a day or so, they will never have to know about it. It would mean a lot less paperwork, which is something I think you would be happy about," he suggested reasonably.

"That makes sense." France agreed, "but what happens if this last longer than a couple days?"

"Hopefully it won't."

"But what if it does?"

"We'll deal with it then."

There was silence for a few moments. Then, "I suppose that works for me." France paused for a second before continuing. "I also have an idea."

"Oh, please do enlighten me," England said sarcastically.

"I will pretend I didn't hear that and continue with what I was about to say." France replied pointedly. "I was thinking that we should set up some kind of video chat so that we can talk without the phone. Twice now someone has tried to call you, but I've been ignoring their calls. I can't keep that up without someone getting suspicious, especially if it's your boss."

"I guess that's true." England reluctantly acquiesced. "Do you have a camera for your computer that I can go set up?"

After multiple instructions from both ends of the conversation, a handful of insults, some cursing, and another call for England that France promptly ignored, the cameras and microphones were set up and working. The two nations sat in front of their computers, studying the face on the screen before them. Now that they could see each other, see what was actually going on, they could truly appreciate the strangeness of the situation.

"This is kind of creepy," England finally said.

"It's like looking in a mirror." France pointed out.

"Yes, it's exactly like looking in a mirror, except that my reflection isn't doing what it should be doing," England said. "It's bloody weird."

A ringing sound started up from France's side of the video chat.

"Angleterre, your phone is ringing again. Do you want me to answer it?" France asked, and England could see him looking wearily off screen to where to phone was supposedly ringing.

"Yes," England replied hesitantly, "but put it on speaker phone, and make sure you try to act like I would."

"That shouldn't be too difficult," France said sarcastically as he reached for the device, "I'll just pretend to be some stuck-up old man."

"And if it's my boss, just agree to anything he says." England quickly said before France picked up the phone. He wanted to get back at the French nation for the old man jibe, but France had already hit the speaker button. England didn't want whoever was calling him to hear _France's_ voice (currently his own) on the phone.

"Hello?" France answered as neutrally as possible.

"England? Oh, thank god you finally picked up." The voice on the other end sounded relieved, a little panicked, and oddly quiet.

England wondered who it was on the phone, as he didn't immediately recognize the voice. At least it wasn't his boss, that much he knew for certain. France, however, quickly covered the speaker with his hand and looked at England, a somewhat confused expression on his (_England's) _face.

"It's _mon chère_ Canada," he whispered to England. England blinked in confusion before remembering the somewhat invisible nation. Feeling a little foolish, England whispered back to France.

"Why would _Canada_ call me? England felt proud that he was able to remember the northern nation's name.

"My thoughts exactly," France replied quietly before uncovering the speaker. He took a moment to look suspiciously at the phone before continuing.

"Canada, what's wrong?" he asked, genuinely wanting to know the answer.

"Dude," Canada replied, and both France and England frowned at the unusual word coming from the Canadian nation, "you don't understand. There is something completely whacked out going on here."

A thought started to worm its way into England's mind. It wasn't a thought that he liked. _That vocabulary sounds disturbingly familiar…_

"What is it, Canada?" France demanded, staring to draw his own unwanted conclusions.

_It sounds like…_

"That's the thing, dude, I'm not Canadia," said the non-Canadian.

_Oh God, it sounds like…_

"I'm America!"

_NO…_

"And this isn't my body!"

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><p><em>dun dun DUN!<em>

_So, tell me how I did for my first ever chapter of my first ever story. I would love some advice on how to improve my writing._

_Also, if any of you have any ideas or recommendations for the the story itself, like where it should go in terms of plot, I would love to hear them. I need some inspiration, and from what I've read already in this fandom, you guys are full of awesomeness._

_So yeah, hope you enjoyed it._


	2. In Which More People Become Involved

Would you look at that, another chapter. I didn't think I had it in me. But, here I am, giving you another taste at my mediocre writing. Hope you enjoy.

Many thanks to my reviewers. It amazes me to imagine all you people reading this story. You guys are awesome. Just to answer a few questions, only eight (I may push that to ten) nations are going to switch. You can guess which ones will change, but I have already determined who's going to be switching. Let me know your thoughts.

Rating is still T (I think there is on case of swearing, unless you count British swearing, then there is a lot)

Still own nothing, which is sad (I don't even own this laptop I'm using)

So yeah, have fun and don't forget to tell me what you think.

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><p>England was perplexed.<p>

Actually, he was more than perplexed.

He had been confused when he'd woken up in a room that wasn't his own. He had been disturbed to find himself occupying France's body. He had been horrified to find out that France was in _his_ own body. His day so far had contained a slew of surprises, and this latest revelation had the British nation perplexed.

Not only had he and France switched bodied, it seemed like America and… what's-his-face… had switched as well. _It can't be a coincidence,_ England thought, looking out the window to his left, _I mean, what kind of coincidence causes FOUR people to switch bodies at the same time._

The car turned right and left the airport. England sighed, thinking about the events of the past couple of hours.

It had taken a while for America to calm down. Once he was able to talk in a coherent manner, France had asked him about his northern brother. America ended up calling what's-his-face, who was in the American's body, and a four-way conversation began between England, France, and the two North American nations. It was a weird conversation to say the least, what with the confusion of who's who and which person should respond to what name. Realizing that that it would all be much simpler if they just were to meet up in person, they decided to convene at England's place. France was already there (with strict instructions from England to _not touch anything_), and England was able to take one of France's private jets in order to return to his country. America and what's-his-face would meet up in New York, and then take one of the American's private aircrafts to meet up with the Europeans. All things considered, everyone should arrive at England's place by two in the afternoon.

England had not been looking forward to interacting with other people while in France's body. However, in order to get the private jet, England had to act like French nation in front of a few aircraft crewmembers. That had been an _interesting_ experience, especially since England didn't know any French. France had proposed an idea to this problem, and that's how England ended walking up to the pilot and crew of the private jet with the cell phone discreetly held in his hand and a pair of headphones casually plugged in. The cell was set on speakerphone, and England had one of the ear-buds placed in his right ear, hidden beneath in (now long) hair. France, who was still on the phone, was able to listen to his staff talk in French and then give instructions to England on how to respond. Though England had no idea what he was saying, he had to admit, the French sounded completely natural with France's voice and accent. He did know, however, that France had made him say some unsavoury (and most likely inappropriate) things to the crew. He could hear France's laughter loud and clear after he instructed the British nation to say something regarding _les fèces_ and _mes lèvres _to one of the flight attendants. Once on the plane, England ended the call and proceeded to look out the window for the rest of the hour-long flight. Overall, it had been a very strange and somewhat degrading experience.

The plane had landed ten minutes ago, and now England was in a black governmental vehicle that was headed north through London towards the British nation's house. England was extremely grateful to be back in the United Kingdom – not only did he feel much more at home here, but he also didn't have to speak in that horrid frog-language anymore. _What a relief, I never want to go through that dreadful experience again._

"We're arrived at the Kirkland Manor, Mister Bonnefoy," the driver said, pulling up in front of England's house.

England frowned in confusion before remembering that France's last name was Bonnefoy. "Oh, yes, thank you," he said distractedly, opening the side door and unbuckling his seatbelt. "Your driving was… um… very good," he finished somewhat lamely.

"Right… thanks," the driver responded sceptically, raising an eyebrow as the nation awkwardly climbed out of the car. "Just inform Mister Kirkland when you wish to leave, and a car will be sent."

England nodded his head in understanding before closing the car door. As he turned away, he could hear the car drive down to the end of the street and turn the corner. England took a few unsteady steps, still feeling extremely disjointed in this body. He was taller than he was used to, and his hand and feet didn't always move the way he wanted them to move. The hair was also beginning to bother him, he didn't like the way it brushed his cheeks whenever he would move his head. It was becoming quite bothersome.

Tucking said bothersome hair behind his ears, England stopped a few feet from his front door. Just being in front of his house gave him a small measure of relief. It was simple and unchanging and safe and it didn't go about switching house-souls with other houses. Its insides stayed where they were supposed to stay. England liked that. Things shouldn't go around switching souls (or whatever) with other things.

England took the last few steps forwards and paused at the door. He was about to reach for the handle when suddenly the door was wrenched opened and out came a stumbling mass of person. England paused in surprise, a profound sense of surrealism washing over him. It was France… well… France in England's body. England thought it had been weird to talk to France over the video chat. But now, the British nation was actually looking at himself as his body seemingly moved free of his control.

It was all extremely bizarre. And hard to think about.

England stood there in silence as the French nation regained his balance. When France looked up, England immediately took note of the scorch marks and slightly charred clothes. There was also a faint smell of burning paper coming from inside the house. Frowning, England looked over the French nation's shoulder. He noticed a trail of smoke emerging from a room down the main hallway.

England also noted with a small sense of satisfaction that, for the time being, he was taller than France.

Raising his eyebrows, England looked from the trail of smoke to France, then back again. He came to a conclusion.

"You touched something, didn't you?"

Looking back towards the fading wisps of smoke, France shuffled his feet sheepishly. "It was just a book," he said, looking back at England uncertainly, as if he were waiting for the confirmation that yes, the thing that had burst into fire upon his poking it was indeed just a book.

England looked at the nation occupying his body with disdain. "You touched one of my spell books," he explained to the clearly confused Frenchman. "They're all charmed. If anyone other than myself touches them, they discharge energy to scare that person off."

"But I'm _you_," France complained, rubbing some ash off his cheek.

"My books are smart enough to know that just because you _look_ like me does not make you eligible to touch them."

"That makes no sense."

"It makes perfect sense," England said with a vague wave of his hand, "now let me into my house, you frog."

Stepping past the still smouldering Frenchman, England walked through the open door and into his house's entrance. France followed closely behind, closing the door after he had passed through. They both stood there for a moment in silence, then England sighed and walked down the hall towards his study. Once again, France followed him, this time a little more hesitantly. Pausing in front of the open door, the British nation looked into room where he kept all his important documents and spell books. (Sometimes when England got tired of signing governmental papers he would leaf through his spell books, contemplating which curse would be best to cast on various nations.) France nervously stood beside him, gaze fritting between England and the contents of the room.

The contents of the room being a desk, a bookshelf, a couch, and a heavy looking book lying in the middle of the floor. The book, which had a red cover decorated by some odd looking symbols, was surrounded by soot and ash, and the floor encircling the volume was scorched black.

The book itself was perfectly fine.

England cast a disapproving glare at France before walking over to the book and picking it up. Straightening up from his crouched position, England was about to turn around when there was a flash of red. Fire erupted around the spell book. Yelping in pain (and surprise), the British nation dropped the volume. The flaming book landed heavily on the ground with a loud "thud", and the floor immediately darkened due to the searing heat. The flames receded after a second, leaving another scorched area on the floor as well a startled England who looked at the undamaged tome with wary gaze. There was a moment of stunned silence, then…

"I guess you're not _eligible_ to touch your own books," France said smugly.

England glared at the overly satisfied Frenchman. He was annoyed at both France and the book. _Why is everything going so brilliantly WRONG today? This is just so bloody fucking stupid._ Suppressing the urge to stab something (preferably France) with his rapier (which hung on the wall three feet away), England breathed out deeply and closed his eyes. After a second, he looked at France. "I guess the charm can't recognize _my_ presence under _your_ thick and repulsive skin," he gritted out between clenched teeth, cautiously toeing the book that still lay on the ground.

Shifting slightly so that his weight was centered over his right leg, France placed his hands on his hips in a very un-England like manor. "Being in _my_ body is the most beauty _you_ will ever hope to achieve," he said with arrogance, "whereas I am stuck in this ugly dwarf-body."

England responded by spluttering unattractively.

France then waved his hand vaguely in England's direction. "And please don't burn _my_ faultless skin with _your_ annoying magic tricks."

"It's _not_ a trick!" England yelled, advancing towards the man who currently occupied his body, "It's _real_ magic!"

France snickered.

"And stop it with that smug attitude!" the British nation shouted, turning on his heels. He no longer wanted to have to see his own face twisted in that perverted smirk. He walked a few steps away, carefully avoiding that stupid book. He hated this, absolutely hated it. All he wanted to do was curl up in a chair with a warm mug of tea and a good book. But no, he was stuck in this stupid body and he had to talk to that idiotic moron and now he couldn't even pick up that bloody book. Exhaling loudly, England rubbed his face in exasperation.

"This is all bloody _brilliant_," he sighed in frustration. "And _you_," England turned around and glared at the blonde, "have been no help whatsoever in trying to solve this…" England waved his hands absentmindedly in the air, "this… _problem_. You've just criticized and insulted me at every turn. Can we please just try to… I don't know… work together?" England cringed at the mere thought, but managed to finish the sentence without vomiting.

France looked just as enthusiastic.

"Look," England said painfully, "the faster we figure this all out, the faster we can go back to hating each other from a distance."

"I _suppose_ that is true," France reluctantly agreed, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "It _is_ particularly nice to hate each other from a distance."

"Brilliant. Now, help me put this book back on the shelf."

They found out after a few mistakes that as long as they were both touching the book at the same time, it wouldn't burst into flames. Apparently the stupid charm needed both the body _and_ presence of the British nation in order not to activate. They had managed to awkwardly place the volume back on the shelf by both keeping a hand on the red cover. When they had first tried picking up the book, their hands accidently touched and England had jerked away, leaving France holding the book all by himself. England could barely contain his laughter as France had panicked and tossed the book across the room just as flames roared forth from beneath the cover.

Once the book was safely placed back on shelf, England sent France to go and get a change of clothes. The ones he currently wore had numerous scorch marks and a few holes where the flames had burnt through. Luckily for the British nation, the clothes that had gotten ruined weren't any of the ones he cared about. As France walked off towards England's room, England started trying to salvage his study. The floor was considerably damaged in a few locations, but a little water did make the place look slightly better. Much of the darkened wood was just soot and ash, and so England, and France (once he returned with presentable attire) were able to wash the blackened bits away. There was a lot of bickering and insults, but after a bit of time, the place did look marginally better. Though they argued the entire time, they both agreed on one thing – it wasn't an overly fun experience.

England and France just didn't make very good cleaning buddies.

It took a couple hours to finish fixing up the study. They had just managed to safely put away all the cleaning materials and settle in the kitchen when they heard a car pull up outside.

A few seconds later, the doorbell rang.

France and England shared a look. Before either of them could go answer it, they heard the front door open and two pairs of footsteps enter into the house.

"Yo, guys?" A quiet voice could be heard from down the hall. "The hero has arrived!"

England raised his eyebrows in surprise. It was odd to hear that statement in such a quiet and timid voice. It was usually said with force and assertion, not whispered with uncertainty. A couple seconds later another person could be heard.

"Um, America," said an annoyingly familiar voice, "don't you think we should have waited for the door to be answered?"

"Jeez, dude," the quiet voice answered. "Relax, the door was unlocked. It's fine."

"O-ok. If you're s-sure?" The stutter sounded strange coming from the loud and confident voice.

"I am. Now lets go find those European dudes."

Frowning, England stood up and left the kitchen. He walked out into the hall, bracing himself to deal with the overbearing nation and his easily forgotten brother. However, he paused in confusion when he came upon a determined-looking what's-his-face leading an awkward-looking American down the hall. What's-his-face was munching on a hamburger and America clutched an angry-looking polar bear. England blinked a few times before remembering the situation.

_Right, they've switched._

The North Americans brothers, who had stopped their trek down the hall when England emerged from the study, looked on with wariness at the British nation. England immediately realized it was because he looked like France. When France came into view, he was also met with apprehensive stares.

What's-his-face broke the awkward silence.

"Yo," he said around a mouthful of hamburger.

_Yes,_ England thought,_ that's definitely America._ The British nation looked at the "America" who practically cowered behind his brother. _And that would be the… other one._ England allowed his thoughts to settle before replying.

"Took your bloody time getting here," he said, purposely making it obvious that he was _not_ the French nation.

The body that currently housed America looked at him in amazement. "Dude, this is way whacked." The vocabulary was most certainly America's, but the voice seemed incapable of being louder than a timid articulation. It was almost as if the body was afraid of speaking above a whisper.

"Yes," England replied with a roll of his eyes, "this _is_, as you say, _whacked_."

France chose this moment to jump into the conversation. "_Mon chère Canada_, are you alright?"

The Canadian nodded his head timidly, still clutching the polar bear to his chest. He then looked uncertainly at France, a questioning look in his eyes.

"Yes, everything is fine," France replied to the silent question, moving closer to Canada.

England frowned. _Since when have they been able to silently communicate to each other?_ Dismissing the thought, England suggested that they move into the living room. America immediately agreed to the idea and then proceeded to head off in the wrong direction. Shaking his head, England led the group to the sitting room. America eventually joined them.

Once everyone had settled into their seats (Canada and France on the sofa, America on the recliner, and England on his favorite chair), they began discussing their current situation.

"We've already agreed," England said, gesturing to himself and France, "that we're not going to tell our bosses." France supported the statement by nodding his head in acquisition. England continued. "At least not right now. If we can get this… _problem…_ fixed without their knowledge, it would mean a lot less explaining and paperwork on our part."

"Sounds good to me," said America, slouching further in the recliner. "The less work, the better."

Canada shifted uncomfortably on the couch, and then proceeded to actually _raise his hand_ in question. England blinked in disbelief. Was this nation really so insecure that he would raise his hand before speaking. _Too bad it's not truly America who's acting all modest and nervous. That would have been a welcome change._

"Yo dude," America spoke to Canada in his now timid voice, "stop acting all shy and un-hero-like, you're making me look so not cool right now."

"O-oh, sorry," Canada apologized, wincing when his voice came out much louder than he'd wanted. He took a nervous breath before continuing. "I was just wondering," he said, voice still annoyingly loud and boisterous, "if we're not going to tell our bosses, does that mean we will have to pretend to be each other when we talk to our government officials?"

"Yes, I suppose we will," England replied unenthusiastically. He really didn't want to have to act like that perverted Frenchman (again). "However," he added, "hopefully we can get this bloody mess behind us before we are required to do so."

He was met with nods of agreement. Then France spoke up from his position on the couch.

"What about the other nations?"

"Yeah, man? Am I gonna have to pretend to be Canadia in front of, like, the Asian dudes and that Commie bastard? That's so not cool."

"My name's Canada." Canada looked surprised when America and the two Europeans actually noticed that he had spoken.

"Oh, ok," America said cautiously, "didn't know that bothered you, sorry bro."

"No, its fine," Canada said quickly, spreading his hands out in front of him in an apologizing manor. "I didn't think anyone would hear me. I actually don't mind."

"Dude, its ok, I won't call you Canadia anymore."

France jumped in. "_Oui, c'est vrai_, don't be afraid to speak up, _ma chérie_." England frowned at France's continual use of French. Why did he have to persist in speaking in that perverted language, couldn't he give England's voice a break?

Canada cowered a bit on the couch. He looked obviously uncomfortable with the attention he was receiving. "No, really, its fine," he said, "I just…" he trailed off, wincing again at the intensity of his own voice. "I just want to…" he paused again, failing in his attempt to lower the volume of his voice. "I JUST WANT TO STOP SPEAKING SO LOUDLY!"

Prolonged silence followed the Canadian's outburst, and the northern nation proceeded to cower further into the couch. A muffled "I'm sorry" could be heard from beneath the hands that had clamped over the Canadian's new mouth.

France slid closer to Canada. "There's nothing to be sorry for, _mon chère_," he said, putting a comforting hand on the Canadian's shoulder. "We are all having problems with our current bodies. I mean, look at these eyebrows…" He continued talking about inconsequential things and gradually, the northern nation relaxed.

England had been upset at the eyebrow comment, but let it slide for the time being. He was currently more concerned about how close France and Canada were getting. He typically wouldn't have given it a second thought, but at this moment in time, one of the nations being observed by England was in the Brit's body. The British nation glanced to his left at America, who was slumped in the recliner. The American seemed completely disinterested with the proceedings happening in front of him. England contemplated interrupting the two nations on the couch but settled for turning his attention to his former colony.

"Are you not concerned about your body?" he asked the American.

America looked at him lazily. "What do ya mean, concerned?"

"I mean that don't France and Canada seem awfully _close_ to you?"

"Well duh."

"Isn't that, I don't know, weird to you?" England asked, glancing again at the blondes to his right.

"Um, no," America responded blatantly, sitting up a bit in his chair. "You _do _know that French-face and my bro are like, a _thing_, right?"

England was silent for a moment before answering. "Define a _thing_," he said cautiously, not really wanting to know the answer.

"Like, they're _together_."

"Together?" England really hoped that didn't mean what he thought it meant.

"Yeah, dude. Jeez, I thought you were kinda smart, they're _together_. Like _going out_, together."

"They're going _out_?" England quickly turned back towards the couch, a look of panic in his eyes. He was just in time to witness his own body reach up and gently cup America's (Canada's) cheek. England could do nothing but watch in silent terror as France slowly leaned forward and pressed his lips against the Canadian's. _OH BLOODY HELL! _England's mind yelled. He wanted to move, he wanted to get up and pull the two apart, he wanted to erase the scene from his mind, but his body continued to sit there in stunned silence as the two nations kissed – as he and America kissed.

"DUDE, you're like, eating _my face_!" America piped up from his spot on the recliner. "Not cool, man."

_NO! Stop it!_

"So not cool, 'cause I would like, totally dominate."

_Why aren't they stopping?_

"And I totally think of you as a father, so, this is like, way not cool."

_I'M BLOODY WATCING MYSELF SNOG MY OWN FORMER COLONY AND I'M NOT DOING ANYTHING TO STOP IT! WHAT'S WRONG WITH ME? _England made a small choking noise in the back of his throat.

"Did I just say I would dominate you? Ew, why would I even think that? That's just _wrong._"

France and Canada soon broke away. When they turned to look at the two nations across the room they were met with America's baffled gaze and England's horrified stare. Canada blushed a deep red and did a good imitation of a turtle hiding in its shell. France, on the other hand, look right at England and smirked.

England felt his eye twitch.

And just like that the temporary paralysis was gone. England was up and yelling profanities, cursing France in every language he knew (which only amounted to English and Latin). The French nation did nothing but laugh as he gently took hold of the terrified Canadian's hand. England continued to yell, and America gave them all a disturbed look before slumping back in the recliner.

England eventually calmed down enough to speak in coherent sentences.

"Can you please…" he said exasperatingly, "just not do… _things…_ of that nature while you're not in your proper bodies." He directed his look solely at the Frenchman.

"But _Angleterre_," France said in a slight mocking tone, "its _l'amour_. You cannot stop our feelings for each other." He then gave the Canadian a comforting look. "And you are scaring poor Canada."

England looked at the body of America. He had to admit, the Canadian did look sufficiently terrified. Sighing, England closed his eyes for a second, regretting was he was about to say.

"_Fine_," he bit out angrily, "do your _amour_, just… not when I'm in the same bloody room." England rubbed his face exasperatingly as he walked back over to his chair. "Got it?"

_What am I doing? This is wrong on so many levels. _

France smiled. "Yes, we understand."

Canada nodded his head nervously.

_Brilliant. This is bloody brilliant. What have I done?_

"So, dudes," America spoke up from his slumped position on the recliner, "now that we have this weirdness figured out, can we decided if I'm gonna have to act like my bro in front of that Commie bastard? 'Cause, no offence dude," America said, looking at Canada, "but I don't really want to act like a pussy in front of that creep."

"N-no offence taken," Canada said, wringing his hands together, "and um, I'm not sure I could p-pull off acting like you, America."

"Ha ha, of course you couldn't. 'Cause I'm the h–"

"I was thinking," France cut in over America's now quiet voice, "that we should at least tell the other members of the G8."

"That's probably a good idea," England agreed, "seeing as they would notice something was wrong even if we didn't tell them."

"Hey guys–"

"What about the other nations? Should we tell them?" France said, thinking of Spain and Prussia.

"Guys, listen to m–"

"If this doesn't get resolved in, let's say a week, we should tell them." England responded unenthusiastically.

"This voice _sucks_!"

"Will we continue to live at each other's houses?" France asked, still not aware of the annoyed American.

"Um, guys," Canada jumped in nervously, "I think America has something to say."

The two European nations turned to look at the peeved American. The nation was slumped in the chair, arms crossed over his chest. He was obviously unpleased at how easy it was for the others to ignore him.

"Jeez, dudes," he complained, "don't act like I'm invisible. That's not cool."

Canada coughed.

"Anyways, what I wanted to say," America said seriously, "is that what if the others are having the same problem?"

There was a moment of silence, then...

"What do you mean, _same_ _problem_?" England asked, even though he was pretty sure he knew what America was suggesting.

"I mean that what if the other nations have also switched."

"That," said France soberly, "is a horrifying thought."

"Yeah dude, that's what I was thinking," America said, sitting back in the chair.

"I truly hope that isn't the case," England uttered gravely. "But seeing as we don't know what's caused _this_," he said, gesturing to the four of them, "we can't be sure _that_ hasn't happened."

They fell into a brooding silence, all thinking about the consequences of their situation. The calm was broken, surprisingly, by the Canadian.

"Wh-who do you think would have switched?"

xXx*xXx

This had been a very strange morning, even by his standards. Sitting down at the kitchen table, he eyed the two nations sitting across from him. He put his elbows on the table, resting his chin on his clasped hands. There was no denying it…

Prussia was perplexed.

* * *

><p>Ohhhhh, see what I did there. I think that's called a cliffhanger.<p>

So tell me your thoughts, I'd love to hear them. I am having fun writing this, so I hope you're having fun reading it.

Here's a translation of any non-English that I used (for anyone who cares).

_fèces = _ass

_lèvres = lips _

_ _chère; _chérie = dear; darling___

___ _Oui, c'est vrai = Yes, its true____

____ _Angleterre = England_____

_____ _l'amour = love______

Oh, and then "Snog" in british english means french kissing. Hope that helps anyone who may have been confused.

So, yeah, hope you enjoyed.


	3. In Which Some People Are Confused

Heh, yeah, took a while to get this chapter up. I've been kind of swamped with a crap load of life. And this chapter was a bit difficult to write. But here it is, I really hope you all enjoy it.

So, thanks to my reviewers, a few things have come to my attention. First off, I'M REALLY SORRY for not warning about any potential parrings. It totally sliped my mind. Some of you were probably surprised (and not too happy) with the whole Franada thing, and for that I'm sorry. I will say right here and now that there WILL BE some mentions of relationships going on, but there will be no explicit detail on ANY of them. The kiss last chapter will be as far it will ever go (and that was merely to see Iggy's reaction). So, for you people who don't like the parrings, please just bare with the odd little mention of them. If you DO like them, then treasure those moments, 'cause there won't be very many of them.

Anyways... OMG look at the reviews. I am extremely happy that you people are liking my story. You guys are all awesome, really, you are.

I hope you enjoy this chapter. From the reviews I've read, it's not going to be quite what you all expect. Let me know if you saw this coming.

Disclaimer: I own nothing except the English essay I'm supposed to be writing.

* * *

><p>So far, on his list of awesome mornings, this one didn't rate very high. Awesome mornings contained sleeping in and big breakfasts, not early awakenings and no breakfast at all. Awesome mornings were calm and predictable, not chaotic and weird. (Prussia would admit that he liked chaotic and weird things, but just not at seven in the morning.) No, this morning was not an awesome morning. Actually, it wasn't even an average morning.<p>

This morning fell into the category of just plain strange.

Prussia rubbed his eyes tiredly, wishing he hadn't woken up so god damn _early_. This whole situation would have been extremely awesome and funny if he wasn't so fucking tired. Leaning back in the chair, Prussia crossed his arms in front of him and eyed the two nations across the table. Despite his tiredness, Prussia couldn't help but crack a smile at the scene before him. It really was quite amusing. The taller of the two nations shifted awkwardly in his seat, whereas the shorter one just glared. It was a strange sight to behold.

"So guys," Prussia broke the silence that had fallen over the kitchen, "which one of you wants to make the awesome me an awesome breakfast?"

Germany and Italy (or Italy and Germany, depending on the way Prussia looked at it) both blinked in surprise at the spontaneous question. The Italian then crossed his arms in front of his chest and shot the Prussian a disapproving glare. Prussia had to remind himself that the shorter nation was now actually his brother, and that the fierce look was nothing to be scared of. West was always glowering at him, but it was weird to see the glare coming from the usually happy-go-lucky Italian.

"Is this really the time to be worrying about your stomach?" Germany asked, cringing slightly when his voice came out in a pitch much higher than he wanted.

"It's a perfect time to be worrying about my stomach," Prussia responded egotistically, "I haven't breakfast yet and I'm _hungry_."

"Ve, Prussia," Italy spoke up, "I could make you some pasta! Would you like that?"

Prussia tried to contain his laughter as the German's body bounced up and down in the chair, obviously delighted at the prospect of making pasta. "Sure Ita-chan," he said with a chuckle, "pasta would be awesome."

The taller nation's face smiled in a completely Italy-like way. "Ok! Pasta is the best!"

The blonde got up and practically waltzed over to the kitchen counter. Prussia couldn't help it anymore. He burst out laughing. He may have been tired, but this situation was just so fucking hilarious. And the expression on the brunet's face as the taller nation skipped over to the stove was _awesome_. Germany obviously didn't like seeing his own body act so hyperactive and bubbly.

_Poor West_, Prussia thought humorously as he watched as the taller nation boil some water, _he_ _has to watch his body move without his control. _Prussia grinned, feeling much better now that there was food coming.. _Serves him right though_. The Prussian glanced away from the blonde happily stirring pasta to the body that current housed his younger brother. _What he did this morning was so not awesome. _The albino sat back in the chair, crossing his legs under the table. He thought back to earlier this morning, when he had woken up at the ungodly hour of 6:00am.

xXx*FLASHBACK*xXx

Prussia was startled awake by the sound of two voices yelling. Promptly falling on the floor in surprise, the albino floundered to his hands and knees. He blindly reached under his bed for his sword (which he kept from his days as a powerful militaristic nation) before truly becoming aware of where he was. Blinking rapidly a few times to dispel the fog of sleep, the Prussian reluctantly let go of the sword's handle, sitting back on his knees.

_What the hell?_

Prussia waited a few moments at the foot of his bed, listening for any sounds that might suggest he was under attack. He heard nothing save the murmur of a couple voices from down the hall.

_Probably just Germany and Ita-chan, _Prussia thought, slumping against the side of his bed. The Prussian rubbed his face wearily with the back of his hand. He was too awake to fall back asleep, but too tired to want to face the day.

_This sucks. _Prussia sighed heavily. _What time is it, anyways? Probably too god damn early._

Pushing himself up off the floor, the ex-nation stumbled sluggishly to his feet. Looking across his room to where the digital clock was, Prussia groaned when he saw 6:02 blinking back at him.

_What the fuck... who's even awake at this time?_

Walking across the room, Prussia stuck his head out his door and looked down the quiet hall. The door to Germany's room was slightly ajar, which meant that Italy had shown up last night. Despite his annoyance at being woken up so early, Prussia grinned. The _special_ relationship his brother had with the Italian was one that he supported wholeheartedly. Germany kept trying to say that nothing was going on, but Prussia knew better. Italy spent more time at their house than his own. Even when he supposedly left for the night, he would often show up several hours later, making his way immediately to the German's room. Prussia and Germany had come expect these nightly arrivals, and the albino had recently tried to convince Italy to just move in.

Prussia now stood in his doorway, pondering the cause of the yelling that had happened a few moments ago. He absentmindedly wondered if anything bad had happened. He didn't think so. The yelling had sounded more surprised than anything, and the murmuring he could hear drifting down the hall simply sounded confused.

Rubbing his eyes tiredly, Prussia staggered down the hallway. _They better have a good reason for waking me up at this fucking hour_. Swaying slightly, he reached out to the wall to steady himself. The muttering was becoming clearer, and Prussia was starting to make out a few words.

"… so weird…" That was Germany's voice.

"What… you… happen?" Prussia frowned. _That's unusual. Ita-chan is speaking in a serious voice._

There was some more mumbling, then…

"Ve…"

_Did West just say…?_ Prussia tilted his head in confusion, thinking that he must have heard wrong. _Huh… whatever._ He went back to eavesdropping.

"And what about…"

Murmur murmur.

"…what are we…"

More muttering.

"… tell Prussia?"

Perking up at the sound of his name, Prussia took the last few steps to the door and pushed it open. Facing the two startled nations, he leaned casually against the doorway.

"Tell the awesome me what?" he asked, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

The two nations inside the room froze in mid conversation. Turning to stare wide-eyed at the Prussian, Germany shuffled his feet awkwardly (which Prussia thought was out of character for West) and the Italian went completely rigid. Prussia himself was a little taken aback to see Italy's eyes open. It wasn't everyday that the little nation decided to actually open his eyes. Truthfully, it kind of freaked Prussia out. The Prussian liked to think of Italy as a cute little nation that always smiled and prattled on in his sweet accent. When Italy actually opened his eyes, it became very apparent that this was a nation that had lived for hundreds of years and had seen the best and worst of humankind. Prussia found it difficult to think of Italy like that.

"Oh, um, hi brud– uh, Prussia," Italy stammered out, looking extremely awkward and out of place.

Prussia frowned. _Was Ita-chan just about to call me__ bruder__? What the hell?_ "What's going on here?" he asked, feeling that he was missing out on something important.

"Nothing. Nothing's going on," the Italian replied quickly. "Everything is fine." He punctuated the statement by waving his hand in a dismissive manor. The Prussian swore he saw the nation give his hand a quick look, as if he was startled at the view of his own slim fingers outstretched before him.

Prussia thought that Italy was acting very suspiciously. _And while on the subject of suspiciousness… what the HELL is West doing cowering in the corner of the room?_ _That's so not awesome_. Germany had managed to retreat into a corner. He was now nervously twiddling his finger together, staring at the two nations before him with wide eyes. _What the fuck is going on._ Prussia was about to open his mouth to speak when the Italian fixed him with a stare and continued speaking in a persuasive tone of voice.

"Why don't you go back to sleep, Prussia?" he suggested, still looking at him with open eyes.

Though the thought of sleep was tempting, Prussia knew something weird was going on here and he didn't want to leave before figuring it out. "Look, you guys totally woke me up with your yelling, which was not awesome, and I heard you talking about 'telling' me something, and now you're both acting extremely weird. Just spit it out already. What the hell is going on?" He directed that last statement at his brother, who continued to cower in the corner.

The German looked absolutely terrified as being addressed directly. Prussia couldn't remember a time when Germany had looked as confused and uncertain as he did now. The albino was beginning to get a bit worried; everyone was acting so out of character. Germany shuffled his feet uncertainly, gaze darting briefly to the Italian with a silent look of 'help me' before returning to settle on Prussia.

"Um, wurst, and er… potatoes," the blonde said nervously.

"What?" Prussia asked, dumfounded. In his peripheral vision he could see Italy face-palm.

"Uh, and…" Germany continued, "and beer, beer is good…" he trailed off uncertainly.

_I think he's lost it._ Prussia stood there, trying to think of a suitable response to the German's statements.

Meanwhile, Italy had turned to face the taller nation, a look of disappointment on his face. "Really, wurst, potatoes, and beer? That's all you can think of to say?"

"I'm sorry, it's just too hard," Germany complained, sounding very much _not_ like Germany. "I don't know what to do."

"You're supposed to act like I would!" Italy exclaimed exasperatingly. "Is that really so difficult?"

"But you're so big and strong and loud," the German replied, "its too scary to act like that."

By this point in the conversation, Prussia was completely and utterly lost. He stood there staring at the two nations, knowing full well that he was missing out on _something_ important.

"I think we should just tell him," Germany said, indicating with a nervous glance that he was talking about Prussia.

"We _have_ to tell him," Italy responded. "He's probably already started to figure it out. We haven't quite been acting all that convincingly."

Prussia didn't think he's started to figure _anything_ out. He was still completely lost. "Yes," he said loudly, interrupting the ongoing conversation. "Please, do tell me. I kind of want to know what the fuck is going on."

The two nations stared at him in silence. Neither made any move to start talking.

"Well…" Prussia prompted, staring to become impatient.

"It's kind of difficult to explain…" the Italian trailed off, leaving the explanation unfinished.

"Try," Prussia demanded, confusion turning into irritation.

"You wouldn't believe me."

"Why are you being so fucking difficult?" Prussia all but practically yelled. He expected the Italian to cower at the outburst, but the nation merely looked on at him with annoyance. Germany, on the other hand, recoiled in fright. Not being a morning person, Prussia decided to turn on the blonde.

"Fuck West, what's gotten into you?"

"I–I don't know," was the timid reply.

Before Prussia could continue taking out his irritation on his uncharacteristically fearful brother, Italy stepped in front of him with an annoyed look on his face.

"Calm down," he insisted seriously, "you're not helping the situation here."

"What the hell _is_ the situation?"

His only response was a look of disapproval.

"You know what?" Prussia exclaimed, fed up with all this confusion and weirdness, "I'm getting out of here. When you finally decide to tell what the hell happening, I'll be in the kitchen getting myself some fucking food." _This morning is so not awesome._ _It's stupid o'clock and I'm fucking pissed off._

Leaving the bedroom in irritation, Prussia made his way through the house as noisily as he possibly could. _I'm the one who's supposed to annoy West, not the other way around. __Gott__, what the fuck is going on?_

Reaching the medium sized kitchen, Prussia ungracefully threw himself down in a chair. Although he was hungry, he wanted a moment to just _think_. There was an idea that was slowly forming in his mind, but it had yet to take on any definable shape. All he knew for certain was that _something_ weird was going on – something that Germany and Italy were clearly aware of – but it was something that Prussia was (as of yet) not privileged to know.

He heard footsteps echo through the early morning silence of the house. _Here they come,_ he thought bitterly, wishing above all else that he had just stayed asleep this morning. _They had better be ready to explain what the fuck is going on._ Frankly, Prussia was kind of freaked out. He really didn't like how the two nations had been acting this morning – it was just plain weird. Prussia slumped further in his chair. He could hear the footsteps stop briefly in the hall outside the kitchen. _Come on, hurry up and get in here already._

Prussia sat there in the awkward silence, waiting for Germany and Italy to enter the kitchen area. Sighing in irritation, he mulled over the events of the pass fifteen minutes. _What the fuck are they up to? It can't be a joke, right? I mean, Ita-chan is too innocent and West wouldn't know a joke if it poked him in the eye. _As he thought about his brother and Italy's weird behaviour, he was struck with an interesting thought. Not only were the two nations in question acting strange, they were kind of acting like each other. Italy was behaving like Germany, and Germany like Italy. _Why in Gott's name would they be doing that… _Prussia's brow now that he thought about it, they were behaving almost _exactly_ like each other. _What…?_

Prussia looked up as Germany and Italy entered the room. Watching the two nations awkwardly approach him, the albino could easily see where his thoughts had come from. They both seemed so out of sorts. Italy was walking straight-backed and stern-faced while Germany rocked back and forth on his heels, chewing his bottom lip and humming quietly to himself. Not only were they acting strangely, but they also both gave off the impression that they were ill at ease with their own bodies…

The idea that had been lurking in the back of his mind suddenly snapped into focus. Prussia's eyes widened. _Its like they've changed... _He looked at Italy (who stared back steadily) to Germany (who gave him an absentminded smile). Shifting his gaze slowly back to the Italian, Prussia sat back in his chair. The jumbled pieces of his thoughts were starting to fall in place. _Its like they switched bodies… _Prussian ran a hand through his hair in bafflement. _Their behaviour this morning… it would all make sense._

_But that can't be possible…_

Italy (or was it Germany) gave the confounded Prussian an empathetic look. "From the expression on your face, I'd say that you've figured it out."

Prussia looked at the nation before him with wide eyes, not quite ready to believe that this wasn't all some elaborately planned joke. "It can't be…" he trailed off uncertainly. He knew that some strange things have happened to nations before, but this… this was unprecedented. Never before, in his time as nation and an ex-nation, had he ever heard of something like _this_ happening. "Are you telling me that you fucking _switched_ bodies? That's not possible!"

"So you did figure it out," the shorter nation said seriously. "I was certain that we would have to try and explain it to you."

"Fuck yes, you have to explain it to me! What the hell happened?" Prussia demanded. He leaned forward in the chair, glaring at the two nations fervently as he spread his hand out on the table before him. He was finding the news hard to process.

"Ve, Prussia?" the German's voice timidly asked from behind the Italian. Prussia had to remind himself that it was actually _Italy _talking and not Germany.

"What?" he replied curtly, looking at the taller nation.

"Well, you see…" the blonde nation said hesitantly, "we don't really know what happened."

"You don't know what happened?" Prussia repeated incredulously. "You woke up this morning in each other's bodies and you're saying you haven't got a sweet clue how that happened?" The ex-nation tried to calm himself down. Freaking out wasn't very awesome, and the Prussian didn't want to scare to happy-go-lucky Italian (even if the Italian was currently in Germany's body).

Verifying Prussia's statement, Italy nodded his head enthusiastically. Giving the bubbly nation in front of him a dubious look, Prussia turned his gaze to his brother. "Explain," he asked, finding it hard to believe that they had no idea how they ended up in this situation.

Sighing, Germany moved towards the table with measured steps. Pulling out a chair, he sat down and faced the Prussian. "We honestly don't know what caused this problem," he said as seriously as he could manage. His sober tone was somewhat ruined by the voice he had to speak in. Prussia could see the German's face twitch slightly when his voice came out high-pitched instead of the usual deep baritone.

Prussia found some amusement in listening to his brother talk with the Italian's accent. Now that he had calmed down a bit (not that Prussia had lost his cool or anything), he was staring to appreciate the true weirdness of this situation. "So," Prussia began slowly, placing his elbows on the table and resting his chin on his clasped hands, "you guys just woke up this morning and freaked out 'cause you weren't in your own bodies?"

"That's more or less what happened," Germany bit out exasperatingly.

"You didn't, like, eat some weird fortune cookie, did you? Or, I don't know, touch something that was glowing ominously?"

Before Germany could reply to Prussia's out-of-the-blue questions, Italy spoke up. "I don't remember eating any of China's food yesterday," he said happily as he bounced over to the table. "What about you, Germany?"

Germany gave Italy a hopeless look. "No, I did not eat any fortune cookies," he said curtly to the clueless Italian. Turning back to the amused albino, Germany tried to salvage the conversation. "It is most likely an outside influence that caused this situation," he suggested evenly.

Humming thoughtfully, Prussia gave the two nations in front of him a contemplating look. "Ok, I can go with that," he agreed after some reflective thinking. (Prussia had drawn out the whole process just to look like one of those detectives from the mystery shows.)

While the Prussian did his detective act, Italy pulled out a chair from the head of the table to sit beside Germany. "Ve, what do we do now?" he asked after a couple moments of silence. "I'm not going to have to live like this for the rest of my life, right? That would be scary."

"Don't worry Ita-chan," Prussia said reassuringly, "we'll figure this out. You have the awesome me here to help you."

Germany gave him a sceptical look, but Italy seemed pleased at the Prussian's commitment to help them. "Germany, you're so lucky you have Prussia as an older brother," he said happily, clasping his and the German's hands together. "I wish my fratello was as great as Prussia."

Germany sighed at the Italian's words, but didn't say anything to contradict the other nation's statements. He also made no move to untangle his hand from Italy's enthusiastic grip.

Smiling smugly at Italy's claims, Prussia welcomed the ego boost. The ex-nation always enjoyed it when people mentioned how awesome he was. (Which, surprisingly, didn't happen all that much.) Yet even in his self-satisfaction, the Prussian couldn't help but notice how awkward Germany looked holding hands with the Italian. _Oh, I get it,_ he thought,_ that's funny. West is actually holding hands with his own body. That must be real awkward for him. Ha._ Smirking, Prussia sat back in the chair, crossing his legs under the table. "So, why don't you guys tell me exactly what happened this morning?" he asked, directing the question at the nations before him.

"You mean before you showed up half-asleep in the doorway?" Germany asked bluntly.

"Yes, yes, before that," Prussia said condescendingly. "Start with the crazy yelling at stupid o'clock and move on from there."

xXx*END FLASHBACK*xXx

Germany and Italy's recount of this morning's incident had been extremely entertaining. Prussia's irritation at being woken up so early had quickly faded to amusement as he listened to Italy's descriptions of waking up face to face with his own body. The albino wished he had been there to see Germany and Italy's reactions when they realized they had switched bodies. Slumping forward on the table, the Prussian yawned loudly. He may have forgiven the pair for waking him, but he still wished he could have stayed in bed for another couple of hours.

"The pasta's ready!" Italy sang, turning to face the German brothers.

A few moments later, the three nations were sitting at the table eating spaghetti. Finishing off his first plate in record time, Prussia quickly grabbed seconds. "So," he said around a mouthful of pasta, "what are we gonna do now?"

"We are going to have to tell the other nations," Germany said, staring unenthusiastically at his forkful of spaghetti.

"Yeah," Prussia agreed, "there's no way you guys are going to act convincingly enough like each other to fool the others. They'll figure it out right away."

Germany sighed, obviously finding this whole situation too uncontrolled and chaotic for his liking. Prussia, on the other hand, was eagerly looking forward to seeing the other nation's reactions when they hear of this predicament. _Its gonna be fucking awesome._

Italy happily ate his pasta, watching the two brothers discuss the body-switching situation with fascination. "My fratello isn't going to be too happy about this," he said passively. "He's probably going to yell at me and say it's my fault…" He cheerfully took another bite of the spaghetti. "Mmmmm, pasta is so tasty!"

"Uh," Prussia blinked in surprise at the Italian's matter-of-fact statements. "Don't worry Ita-chan, we'll make sure Romano doesn't blame you for this 'cause that'd be so not awesome."

"Ve, its ok. Fratello is always so angry."

"Yeah, well, he still shouldn't go around taking out his anger on other people," Prussia said resolutely.

A small frown creased Italy's brow. Germany, seeing Italy's distress, gave Prussia a judgemental stare.

"Bruder," he said firmly, "that's a problem for another day." Pushing his empty plate to the side, Germany tried to steer the conversation away from Italian brothers' relationship. "We already have enough to deal with at the moment."

Messaging the back on his neck, Prussia slid down further in his chair. "Yeah, I know," he mumbled unhappily. "Just, man, I don't like how that little jerk treats our Ita-chan."

"Ve, Prussia, it's fine, really," Italy said honestly.

The albino gave a small smile to the Italian. Deciding to focus on the current situation, he sat up straighter and eyed the two nations in front of him. "Alright then," he said, addressing the unfortunate pair, "what are we gonna do about this whole body-switching thing?"

Brown eyes stared directly back at him as Germany answered as truthfully as he could.

"I don't know, bruder."

xXx*xXx

England looked at the three nations before him. The idea that other nations may have also switched bodies was a terrifying notion. But now that the thought was voiced, courtesy of America, there was no denying the very probable truth that the other nations were waking up this morning in panic. There was no reason why this body-switching thing should only be contained to the four nations in England's house.

_What if… _England quickly ran through some possible scenarios in his mind. _Oh, god, this... this could be bloody awful._

Tucking his hair behind his ear, England fixed the nations in front of him with a serious stare. "I'm calling a G8 meeting."

America shifted from his position on the recliner. "When?" he asked, trying to speak louder than a whisper.

"Tomorrow," he replied quickly. "I'll send out the message now. The meeting will be set for tomorrow morning."

"I presume it'll be at this house," France asked as England stood up.

"Yes, seeing as there's four of us already here," the British nation answered. He walked across the room towards his desk and computer. Sitting down on the wooden chair, he opened his email and began composing a quick message.

"S-so," Canada nervously spoke up from beside the Frenchman, "no matter what happens, we're going to tell the others we've switched?"

"Of course we are, dude," America said.

"It is what we've agreed, _mon chère_," France replied soothingly.

"Because we need to fix this problem," England said without turning around. He exhaled as he gave his email a quick look over. Finding it worthy, he closed his eyes briefly before hitting the send button.

_There, it's done. Now, let's see what tomorrow will bring._

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><p>And next chapter we bring in even more people (I'm going to die trying to write it)<p>

Anyways, so what did you think. I know it may have been a little hard to follow, so let me know what you all think. Did you see it coming? Do you like where this is going? Any thoughts? I'd love to hear them.

Thank you all for sticking with me, you are all so awesome.

Also let me know if you see any mistakes. Other than my sister, I'm really the only one who checks my chapters.

Stay tuned for the next chapter.


	4. In Which We Talk About Tea

*awkward laughter*

Hey guys... been a little while... heh, yeah. Uh, sorry, truly. And I apologize in advance for this chapter but I felt like I _had_ to get something up and posted. It's about half the length of the previous chapters, but hey, the plot's back with the four guys in London. That's good, right?

Please don't kill me.

Anyways, the short of it is that I'd hit a bout of writer's block at just about the time I'd started on finals at school. So, it's kinda been hard to write. But, my writer's block has ended (yay, though I still have exams in a week) and I managed to get a semblance of chapter written. Its pretty much a set-up chapter for the next one. Still, I hope you wonderful people enjoy this, and I absolutely love your reviews, favorites, and alerts.

Punmaster Extrordinaire: Thank you so much for your praise. I'm truly honored. I'm also happy that you like the chapter titles, I'll try to keep them interesting.

YoungPhoenix00: Thanks! =)

Love-Me-Insanity: Yeah, it can be hard to keep track of who's who, I sometimes lose track when I'm writing them. But I'm happy that you find my descriptions sufficient.

Lacri: *more awkward laughter* Hmmmm, yes Romano, I wonder what will happen to him... (I've been debating with myself about adding him to the story).

kurichan729: Yeah, I'll admit the chapter was a little repetitive, thanks for pointing that out. It can be hard to get everything I want down without sounding too much like a broken record player. But thanks for the love, it's greatly treasured. =)

Japanese Sinister: Yes, I'm having great amounts of fun with this, so I'm glad you're having fun too.

LunaWing118: Thanks! =)

i am veeery bored: I'm glad I made you laugh. BTW I love your name, it made me laugh.

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><p>England blearily stumbled into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes tiredly in an attempt to dispel the haze of sleep. Oh, how he had hoped the past day's events had all been a dream. Waking up this morning in his own bed, comfortable and alone, the British nation had a faint glimmer of hope that yesterday had all been just one big nightmare. That glimmer had been shattered when, upon clambering out from underneath the covers, he had caught a glimpse of his reflection in the closet mirror. In that one reflection, any hope of normalcy had been obliterated. Instead of seeing his own green eyes staring back at him from the reflective surface, he saw a disgruntled blue-eyed Frenchman.<p>

_That's just bloody brilliant,_ England had thought, brushing the annoyingly long hair back behind his ears. The hair, however, had refused to stay in place. And so, sighing as he swept the strands out of his eyes, the British nation had dragged his feet over to the dresser. Digging out a long-forgotten hair tie, he had swiftly pulled the chin-length hair back into a messy that had been fixed, England had changed out of his pyjamas into a pair of dark brown trousers and a white shirt with a blue pullover.

_Much better,_ he had thought, rubbing his eyes tiredly as he glanced back at the mirror. Huffing in discontentment, the British nation had walked out the bedroom door and towards the large, wooden staircase. Making his way down the oak steps, England reached the ground floor and headed towards the kitchen.

And that's where he was now, shuffling tiredly into the kitchen as he tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear.

England walked across the room, heading straight for the kettle. He had only one thing on his mind, and that was tea. Before anything else, there must be tea.

"Mornin'," came an unenthusiastic greeting.

Startled, the British nation paused mid-step. Turning his head to face the person who'd spoken, he blinked in surprise to see both France and America sitting at the kitchen table. (England was reluctantly getting used to identifying the correct nation despite the body-switching.) The two nations each had a steaming cup in front of them, and England was somewhat pleased to see a ready-made pot of tea and accompanying mug resting on the table.

"Yes, good morning," he replied to America as he walked up to the table and poured himself a mug of the hot liquid. Taking a quick sip, he briefly closed his eyes as he relished the comforting taste of tea. England sighed in contentment before peering over the rim of the mug at the two out-of-place nations.

"You two are looking awfully dismal."

America grunted in response, rubbing his eyes tiredly as he looked up at the British nation. "Uuuhh," he moaned, "Canada's body wakes up _way_ too early. It wouldn't let me go back to sleep even though _I'm_ the one controlling it," he complained as he rested his head on the table. "This sucks."

England raised his eyebrows at the American's whining. The superpower made it seem as if waking up before 9 o'clock was an unbearable tragedy. The British nation glanced over to the digital clock on the rarely used stove.

_8:52_

_Hmm, that's not too bad. About the time I usually wake up at._ England looked back at the two nations. He was about to ask the pair what time they had woken up at when he noticed France glaring at him. The nation in question had his hands tightly clasped around his mug of tea.

"You, my friend," he said seriously, brining his cup up to his lips, "have an addiction." He finished the mug, placing it back on the table as he reached for the teapot. He poured himself a new cup and immediately took another sip. "This is my fourth cup," he said, looking down at his mug. "Your body is screaming at me to drink this greenish liquid, and I can't do anything to stop it." He looked back at England. "It's like an obsession."

England blinked, glancing down at his own cup of tea before giving France a sceptical look. "An obsession, huh?" He pretentiously took a sip from his mug. "If anyone here has an obsession with something, it'd be you – what with your _amour_ and your frenchy-things."

"_L'amour_ is something to be obsessed about."

"Oh shut up, you wanker."

"At least I know how to use my–"

"Dude," America cut in as loudly as he could manage. "Don't even go there. I so don't want you European dudes comparing your southern bits in my hero-presence."

England spluttered unattractively. "We– we weren't doing _that_," he said self-consciously, face burning.

"Actually, _Angleterre_, we were," France declared with a smirk.

"Didn't I tell you to shut up?" England glared at the grinning Frenchman before turning to face America. "And you," he said forcefully, gaining a bemused look from the American, "why are you drinking tea?" he asked, trying to change the subject. "I thought you said you hated the stuff."

"I don't _hate_ it," America replied honestly. "I just kinda, you know, lost my taste for it… after the whole…. independence thing," he finished awkwardly.

"Oh, yes, _that_," England bit out between clenched teeth. He hated being reminded of the revolution. One of the only wars he'd ever lost and it had to be against the American. "Well then," he said crossly, "if you've _lost your taste_ _for_ _it_, why are you drinking it now?"

"Oh, well, you see," America said earnestly, happy to be moving away from sensitive topics, "Canada's body doesn't mind the taste of tea, so right now it tastes perfectly fine."

"Oh," England grunted in response, feeling a bit putout from the reference of the revolution – it hadn't been a very good time for him. Sighing, he walked over to an empty chair and sat down at the table. Leaning back in his seat, he took a small sip of tea before gently placing his mug on the table's surface.

"So…" America trailed off awkwardly as he tried to keep the conversation going, "…when do you think the other nations are gonna get here?"

"In an hour or so, most likely," France responded offhandedly, finishing off yet another cup of tea. "However, the more important question is – when do you think _mon chère Canada_ is going to wake up?" The Frenchman craned his head to look down the hallway, as if hoping that the mere mention of the shy nation would make him appear.

"Yeah, dude," America said as he slumped in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest. "It's not fair that he gets to sleep in. He totally got the better end of this body-switching deal. Not cool. We should go wake him up."

France smirked suggestively. "I know just the thing to do," he said, pushing his chair back. He was about to stand up when England shot him a disapproving glare.

"I really hope you're not going to do what I think you're going to do," he said reproachfully. "And if that was your plan, then I suggest you revise it."

"But _Angleterre_..."

"No," England retorted.

"But I'll be in a different room. You won't even see me–"

"But I'll _know_." The British nation glared at the Frenchman. "And it's my bloody body, so don't even–"

"_Mais tu as promis__,_" France whined, and England winced at his use of French. "As long as we're in a different room, you said it was alright."

"Well I've changed my mind!" England declared quickly, scowling at the nation across from him. "And don't give me that look, you frog. I'm not going to let you and wake up poor Canada like _that_."

"Hey, guys," America declared, jumping into the conversation, "I don't think that's gonna matter anymore 'cause I can hear him coming down the stairs."

England blinked in surprise at the American, having completely forgotten he was there. _My god, it was like he turned invisible._ England smirked. _If only he could be like that all the time, it would be brilliant._ Pushing those thoughts aside, the British nation turned to face the kitchen doorway. America was right; Canada had managed to make his way to the end of the hall and was currently standing at the entrance of the kitchen. England raised an eyebrow as the shy nation hovered by the doorframe, wringing his hands in the material of the large, blue shirt he wore. The kitchen's occupants waited a few more moments, waiting for the Canadian to enter the room, but the northern nation merely ducked his head and coughed awkwardly.

England rolled his eyes at the exceptionally insecure nation. "Well, come in, lad. It's about time you woke up."

"Yeah dude," America added, "just 'cause you get my body doesn't mean you get to sleep in."

"I-I'm sorry," Canada apologized, his voice booming in the small kitchen as he timidly made his way into the room. "I s-swear I didn't mean to."

_Gods, that voice is loud,_ England thought, cringing slightly. _He really can't help it, can he? The poor lad._

"I-I always wake up early," the nation continued tentatively. The obnoxious voice and accent were so out-of-character with the Canadian's shy demeanour. "It-It's one of my habits… a-and I guess this body doesn't have that habit. I-I'm sorry I woke up so late."

"Dude, it's like quarter after nine, that's not late–"

"It's perfectly fine, _mon chère__,_" France cut in, oblivious to the frustrated American ("Seriously dudes, stop interrupting me"). He motioned for the Canadian to take a seat. "We are all having issues with our temporary bodies. _Ne vous inquiétez pas_."

"If you say so," Canada said timidly as he sat in the offered chair.

Once America had finished pouting, the four of them talked about various topics, trying to remain as neutral as possible so that no arguments would break out. They all understood that now was not the time for conflict, especially with the imminent arrival of the other G8 members. Germany and Italy would most likely arrive first seeing as they the shortest distance to travel to get to London, then Russia and Japan would show up some time after that. Once those four nations had been mentioned (as well as the possibilities of who could have switched with whom) it was hard to overlook the fact that the body-switching might not just be confined to the G8.

"Dude, this could totally be happening all around the world," America exclaimed, gesturing wildly with his hands to indicate the enormity of his proclamation. "What if everybody's switching? What are we gonna do?"

"Not _everybody_ is going to have switched bodies," England responded, trying to keep his voice light despite the worry he felt at America's words. _I mean, it's been a whole day and we haven't heard any news about an outbreak of nations waking up in different bodies. It can't be happening to more than a few of us, right?_ England cleared his throat, fixing the other nations was a serious look before voicing his thoughts, hoping for positive feedback.

"I-I don't know," Canada mumbled as quietly as he could manage (though it was still miles louder than his usual volume). "We haven't exactly been paying attention t-to international events… seeing as we're avoiding our bosses…" he trailed off uneasily, feeling out-of-place with the attention he was receiving.

"_Non, non_, it can't be," France replied with a wave of his hand. "If our bosses got wind of nations switching bodies, they would have tried contacting us just to check that we were still _dans nos propre corps_," he said, his French sounding horrendous in his English accent. "Which we aren't," he added as an afterthought.

"And our boss-dudes haven't been contacting us, so everything should be good, right?" America said, looking around the table for confirmation.

"I suppose that sounds about right," England agreed. "So are we in agreement that the body-switching is confined to, at most, the G8?"

The three nations mumbled their agreements just as the old-fashioned chime of the doorbell resonated through the house, echoing off the walls and settling into the bones of the kitchen's occupants.

The final four members of the G8 had begun to arrive.

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><p>And... that's that.<p>

Next chapter we get to have some fun times with people meeting up and discussing just what the hell is going on. *smiles*

For non-French people...

_dans nos propre corps = _In our proper bodies

_Ne vous inquiétez pas = _Don't worry

_Mais tu as promis = _But you promised

_Amour = _Love

And there you go. I hope you all liked the fairly pointless set-up chapter. Let me know how I did. Reviews help me so much in deciding what to do next.

Love you guys. =)


	5. In Which We All Meet Up

**Hey guys, been awhile, no?**

**But I've finally got this chapter down, though it took me a bit a work to get past some parts.**

**And I have been wondering... this story is under the category of humor, which I hope I'm living up to... but I feel like there's a bit more than just funny stuff going on here. What I'm wondering is, should I add another genre under the description? If so, what one ('cause I have no idea)? Or should I just keep it as humor? Let me know what you guys think.**

**Anyways... Thanks so much for the reviews. They are my life.**

**Amateur SoulReaper: Thanks for the virtual cookie, it was very tasty. :)**

**Punmaster Exdrordinaire: I'm glad you like my head!canon about the voices. I decided that things like accents and voice volumes would remain specific to the body and not the... soul... yeah. So thanks :) I'm happy that this idea went over well.**

**Alright, on to the story. Enjoy.**

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><p>For some reason, they found themselves glued to their seats, unable to move. They sat there, looking at each other, uncertainty and apprehension keeping them frozen in place. The four nations were all sharing similar thoughts…<p>

_This shit just got real._

Another chime rang through the house, followed by loud knocking and some indistinct mumbling.

America was the one to finally break the silence.

"Hey, Iggy, you should probably, I dunno, go and answer the door."

England glared at the American. "Why me? You're the _hero_," he drawled sarcastically, "you go answer it." The British nation glanced quickly down the hall towards the front door before returning his gaze the obnoxious nation. "And don't call me Iggy, you idiot."

"Hey dude, your house, your guests. Just saying. And fuck yeah I'm the h–"

The doorbell rang once again, and England could feel the chimes mocking him. Looking at the other nations, the Brit silently hoped someone would come to his rescue. Seeing no one willing to take the lead, England reluctantly accepted his fate.

"You all bloody suck," he sulked, scowling at the three nations in front of him. Receiving no response except a smirk from France, the British nation unenthusiastically got out of his seat. Just before he left the room, he shot once last look of displeasure over his shoulder at the trio. _Bloody abandoning me, the buggers._ He walked out of the kitchen, past the stairs, and down the hallway towards the front entrance. The closer he got to the door, the more distinct the mumbling became. And when England was just a few feet from the entrance he realized that there was actually more than one person behind the front door.

"Oh, bloody hell," he whispered to himself as he approached the door. _What if they're nations who've switched?_ He thought worriedly, wondering what he would do then. _Or, oh God, what if it's people who have NO IDEA what's going on? Who HAVEN'T switched? What will they think when they find out I'm ME and not that perverted frog? Oh, bloody HELL!_

Despite his fears, England reached out and grabbed the large, brass doorknob, the metal cool to his sweaty hand. Taking a deep breath, the British nation collected his thoughts and opened the door, getting read to face whatever was about to come his way.

He obviously didn't prepare enough, for as soon as the barrier of wood was out of the way, England received a solid knock directly on his forehead.

"Oh, man, I'm sorry. I totally thought I was going to have to keep knocking to make you open the door."

Holding his head in pain, England tried to look through his slightly watering eyes at the person in front of him but all he could see was a blurry outline. He recognized the voice, but he couldn't immediately place the person as any nation from the G8. And before the Brit could wipe his eyes and get a clearer look at his guest, the person spoke again.

"Oh, France!" the person exclaimed in surprise. "Didn't recognize you there in that nerdy blue sweater-thing you're wearing. But hey! You're never gonna guess what's going on! I totally have an _awesome_ story to tell you!"

England had finally managed to look past the tears in his eyes, but he already knew who was at the door. The voice and vocabulary had easy given it away. He stood there blinking in surprise at his guest, wondering what the bloody hell _he_ was doing here at the Brit's house.

"Prussia?" he said in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

"Well," he replied casually, "we got the email calling for an emergency G8 meeting, and so I decided to accompany my bruder and little Ita-chan here to the boring, old UK."

Frowning, England was about to berate Prussia for being too Prussia-like when he realized something important; Prussia _was_ being Prussia-like, and _wasn't_ acting like somebody else. _He hasn't switched._ England thought, eyes widening,_ Oh bloody hell… does he even __**know**__ about the body-switching?_

In England's unresponsive silence, Prussia continued speaking. "Hey man, why do you look so shaken up – I thought you loved it when I crashed your totally un-awesome meetings."

England desperately tried to find the words to express that no, he did not love it when Prussia crashed the meetings because Prussia was an annoying, self-centered maniac who, for some reason, refused to disappear despite no longer having a nation to represent. The ex-nation did not belong at meetings and, by the way, this is the bloody United Kingdom you're talking to and _not_ that overzealous, perverted Frenchman. However, before England managed to convey his thoughts to the Prussian, he was tackled by a large, blonde nation who enthusiastically latched onto to his arm. Stumbling, the Bit quickly regained his balance before turning wide-eyed to look at nation beside him. The latter merely smiled before speaking in a deep, rough voice.

"France~," the blonde said animatedly, "look at me, I'm so big and strong and handsome."

England stared in horror as _Germany_ tugged on his arm in order to get his attention. The larger nation's face was happy and smiling and so unlike the usual Germany that England found he was thoroughly creeped out. However, things only got worse when a familiar Italian stepped out from behind the Prussian. The shorter nation's eyes were open and disapproving, staring directly at the German with an exasperated look.

Italy sighed heavily, crossing his arms in front of his chest before speaking. "Mein Gott, let go of the poor man before you tear his arm off."

England stared wide-eyed at the Italian before turning his head to glance at the blonde nation, who sported a sheepish grin after liberating the Brit's arm. Meanwhile, Prussia just stood there in the doorway, laughing like there was no tomorrow. Along with the laughter, England could also hear the Prussian say something along the lines of: "I _knew_ this was going to be awesome… Gott, this is so fucking _hilarious!_"

England stood in the hall, completely rigid, wondering what the bloody hell was going. He was about to voice his confusion when suddenly, it all made sense.

"You… you two have switched, haven't you?" he asked the two Europeans in front of him. He gave the out-of-place pair a questioning look.

It was Prussia who answered. "Aw man, France, why did you have to figure it out so quickly? I wanted to have some fun with it."

"Well, sorry to ruin your _fun_, but there are more pressing matters at hand," England replied candidly, starting to feel more confident now that he knew what was going on.

"You're being so un-awesome right now…" The albino trailed off, looking past England's shoulder and down the hall. His face noticeably brightened. "Hey, dudes," he called, voice rising in volume, "waz'up?"

England followed the Prussian's gaze and saw that the trio he had left in the kitchen had migrated into the hallway. France, smiling like an idiot, seemed overjoyed at seeing the albino, and proceeded to move towards the front entrance to greet his friend. America merely waved at the group by the door, while Canada shyly tired to retreat back into the kitchen (but was dragged back by America).

England turned back towards Prussia and immediately noticed the quizzical look upon the albino's face. The expression was mirrored by the Italian (and England had to remind himself that the brunet was actually Germany). The Prussian slowly shifted his gaze back to England, and a look a realization replaced his confused expression.

"Don't tell me…" he said with a smile, and England frowned as he realized what the albino had figured out.

Prussia laughed.

"Oh, this is too good." He looked at all six nations around him. "You've all switched, haven't you? That's so fucking awesome!"

France was about to speak, but Prussia silenced him with a quick "Shhhh".

"Don't say anything," the ex-nation grinned, "I wanna see if I can figure out who's who." He put his hands on his hips, chewing on his bottom lip before turning to face Italy and his brother. "I already know you two have switched, which is just fucking hilarious."

The corners of Italy's mouth pulled down in a frown, and Prussia smirked at the pair before looking over to the North American brothers.

"And you two have probably switched," he called over to the duo, "especially seeing as you," Prussia indicated with a wave of his hand that he was talking about America's body, "keep trying to hide, and you," he gestured to Canada's body, "are standing there like some arrogant hero."

America's smile widened. "Well, yeah!" he said proudly, "I _am_ the h–"

Prussia then turned on his heel and faced the two blond Europeans. "And I'm going to guess that _you_," he said, poking England in the chest, "and _you_," he pointed at France, "have also switched.

England scowled, dusting off his shirt from where the albino had so obnoxiously jabbed him. "You're damn bloody right I'm not that French bastard, you git. Took you long enough to figure it out."

"Hey dude, it didn't take me that long," Prussia replied, "it's been like, three minutes since I got here." He took a moment to look proud of himself before tilting his head to look at France. "And you, man, look _awful_. How you holding up under those monstrous eyebrows?"

"Oh, not very well," France answered melodramatically, and England scowled at the two nations. "I don't know how much longer the beautiful _moi_ can last."

England was about to reach over and give the Frenchman a well-deserved cuff to the head when the blonde continued in hushed tones. "Oh, it is just dreadful," he said to the Prussian theatrically. "They whisper things to me… horrible, British things."

"They do?" Prussia gasped dramatically, and France nodded gravely in answer. The albino struggled to keep a straight face. "How do you stand it?"

"It's hard, _mon ami_," France replied, striking a dramatic France-like pose under a nonexistent spotlight that looked extremely awkward in England's body. "I'm not going to last long."

As Prussia and France burst into laughter, England had decided he'd had enough. "Will you two bloody shut up," he said between clenched teeth. "This is _not_ funny and I would like it we could return to more _serious_ matters."

Germany spoke up from behind his brother. "I agree with England," he said, trying and failing to sound commanding. Prussia and France just turned to look at Germany and Italy and continued laughing.

When the two nations had finally managed to calm down, England gritted his teeth and suggested that perhaps they should move away from the bloody door and into the sitting room. It took a bit of patience on the Brit's side, but finally everyone agreed.

And so, eventually finding themselves occupying various pieces of furniture in the living room, the seven nations began discussing their situation.

"So, dudes," America said from his spot on the couch, "I'm gonna ask the question we're all thinking. Why are we all switching bodies?"

"Ve~," Italy spoke up, the noise sounding strange in Germany's voice, "not _all_ of us have switched. Prussia is still Prussia."

"That's 'cause I'm too awesome to switch. My awesomeness couldn't be contained by any of your mediocre bodies."

"Not true dude," America replied, "my hero-body would have totally been more than enough for you."

"Would NOT, my awesomeness is far too awesome."

"Naw, MY hero-ness is way too hero–"

"Would you two shut up!" England cut-in, deciding he'd had enough. _Bloody hell, I'm surrounded by egotistical idiots._ He glared at the two obnoxious nations before continuing. "Can we get back to the question at hand? Prussia hasn't switched. Why is that?"

Germany was the one to answer this time.

"Maybe it's because he is no longer a nation." His serious voice and manner did not match the Italian's body whatsoever, but he still managed to get his point across.

"That's a fair argument," England said, thinking that perhaps the body-switching was only limited to full-fledged nations.

Prussia wasn't pleased. "Hey! If I had _wanted_ to switch, I would have."

"Believe me, _mon ami_," France said from the recliner, "it's not all that fun."

"And that's why my awesomeness _chose_ not to change bodies."

"Right," England scoffed sarcastically, "like _you_ can control these kind of things." He glared at the Prussian.

"Oh, and are you saying that _you_ can?" the albino retorted, swinging around to fully face the British nation.

"Of course not, you git!" England crossed his arms in front of his chest.

But it seemed as if Prussia had thought of something. The ex-nation gave the Brit a suspicious glare before speaking. "But what if you could _control_ this?" He swept his arm out in a circle to indicate the room and its occupants. "What if this is all one of your _spells_ gone wrong…" The Prussian's eyes narrowed. "Or maybe this is all according to your plan."

"What the…? No! Of course not!" England declared. "This bloody situation is_ not my fault_!" He gave Prussia a dirty look. "Why, in God's name, would I want to switch bodies with that perverted frog?" England pointed across to the room to France.

France feigned a look of pain. "But _Angleterre_," he pouted mockingly, "I thought we were coming to understand each other."

"You shut up."

"But we've been inside each oth–"

"I said SHUT UP!" England yelled hurriedly, face turning red. "Don't make this bloody body-switching sound like some disgusting, perverted thing."

Germany cleared his throat, "That's enough of that," he said strictly, "I believe that England is _not_ the cause of this situation, regardless of his _spells_." He shot his brother a stern look. "And arguing about this problem is not going to solve anything."

"I still think it's suspicious…"

"Bruder, please be quiet."

"You can't tell the awesome me what to do!"

"Dude," America spoke up, "why are you even here? You're not even, like, part of the situation."

"Hey, I'm part of EVERY situation," Prussia declared.

"Ve~, you weren't part of that one situation with me and Germany in the bedroom–"

"Italy, shut up."

"But Germany~"

"Ohonhon, I wish I could have been there."

"Ve~, it was sooooo great."

"Italy, I said _shut up_."

"Kesesese, West, sounds like you've got some hidden talents."

"Dudes, you guys are like, way whacked."

"No one could be as _whacked_ as you, _Amérique_."

"What are you talking about dude, I'm the h–"

"PASTAAAA~"

England face palmed. He could not understand how this situation got so out of hand so quickly. Everyone was talking at once and nothing – absolutely _nothing_ – was getting done. How were they supposed to figure out a solution for the body-switching problem when they couldn't even uphold a civil conversation?

England decided he'd just about had enough.

He was about to yell at everyone to 'shut the bloody fuck up' when he felt someone gently tugging at his sleeve. Looking to his left, England came face to face with a pair of bright blue eyes. The Brit blinked in surprise, realizing after a moment that he was looking at Canada (in America's body, of course).

"Oh, hello there lad," he said evenly, trying to ignore the idiotic conversations occurring around him. "Is there something you want?"

"Um… I think s-somebody's at the door…" Despite Canada's best efforts at trying to remain subtle, his voice still rose clearly above the room's clamour.

Everybody quieted upon hearing the Canadian's words.

"There's someone at the door? As in, the front door?" England asked, glancing around the now silent room.

Canada shifted awkwardly in his seat, not liking the attention he was receiving. "Y-yeah, I think so. I heard a car pull up, and then people g-got out, and I think they're a-about to–"

A doorbell sounded through the house.

"They're here," Canada said shyly.

Prussia looked impressed. "Ok dude, that was awesome, but also kinda creepy. What are you, psychic?"

"Ah, no, just good hearing."

"Ok, still kinda awesome, but not as awesome as me."

"Oh, thanks."

Italy spoke up from his spot on the couch. "Ve~, is someone going to answer the door?"

England sighed, knowing that it was his obligation to go and greet his guest. "I'll be right back," he said wearily, pushing himself up off the couch. "Whoever it is, I'll just bring them back here and we can get them up to date." _Up to date on what? I don't know. _

He made his way down the hall, somewhat grateful to be away from the room's overwhelming atmosphere. Reaching the door, the British nation paused a moment to collect himself.

_I wonder who it will be this time_, he thought, grasping the doorknob tightly in his hand. _There are only two more nations needed to complete the G8._

He turned the knob.

_Russia? Or Japan?_

He opened the door.

And China stood on the doorstep, waiting to be let in.

…

England blinked in confusion.

"China? What–"

Before he could finish the sentence, the British nation was pushed aside as China entered the house. Stunned, the Brit watched as the shorter nation made his way down the hall.

That was when England became aware of a large and oppressive presence behind him.

_What…_

Turning slowly, England found Russia standing in the front entrance.

"Oh… Hello," England managed to say, feeling somewhat overwhelmed by the last few seconds. Backing up a step, England risked a quick glance down the hall to see what China was doing. The Asian had stopped his trek down the hallway and was glaring eerily at the pair by the door.

England felt a bit nervous.

"Hello France," Russia finally said, and England looked back at the larger nation. The Russian actually seemed to be lacking the oppressive and threatening aura he typically carried…

And that was when England noticed Russia was missing the scarf he so usually wore.

Russia never went anywhere without his scarf.

A deep sense of foreboding settled in England stomach. _Oh, bloody hell… please not these two…_ The British nation turned his head to look back at the Asian.

Wrapped firmly around China's neck was the scarf.

xXx*xXx

Russia and China had switched.

According to the Asian nation, the two of them had been at a conference with their bosses. At the end of the meeting, they had each headed off to their own rooms – they were at a hotel – only to wake up the next morning in a bit of a predicament.

They had swapped bodies.

England and the others listened to the pair recount how they had slipped away from the hotel (and their bosses). Apparently Russia had gotten the email regarding the emergency G8 meeting, and had felt the need to bring China along. China had agreed, seeing as his options were somewhat limited in his current… _form_.

And so here they were, at England's place.

England had explained, along with input from Prussia, America, and France, about their present situation.

England had switched with France.

America had switched with Canada.

And Germany and switched with Italy.

Added to this list was, of course, Russia and China.

England desperately hoped that there was no one else switching. He didn't think he could handle any more.

But…

If China, who wasn't part of the G8, had swapped bodies, then what was to say that the body-switching was limited to the eight present nations (and one ex-nation). If the issue wasn't restricted to the G8, then any nation could have potentially switched.

It was a daunting idea.

And England hoped that no one else would show up at his house in a foreign body. _Are we even expecting anyone else? Who hasn't arrived yet?_

In answer to his silent question, the chimes of the doorbell rang through the house.

_Oh bloody hell… _

England looked around the now silent room, doing a mental count of who was here. He quickly came to the conclusion of who would be at the front door.

Japan.

England sighed, already considering the possibilities of whom Japan could have switched with. He didn't like the potential candidates. Regardless, he had to go and answer the door.

"I'll be right back," he said, standing up and walking across the room.

This time, France, America, and Prussia followed him out of the room and into the hall. They were obviously curious to see the new arrival.

Curious to see who he would have switched with.

England reached the front door, grasping the bronzed knob without hesitation. Briefly closing his eyes, he opened the door. It swung inwards to reveal…

Japan.

…Or was it?

England quickly glanced over Japan's shoulder to see if there was another nation, seeing as – so far – his guests had been arriving in twos or threes.

He didn't see anyone.

Returning his attention to the new arrival, England realized that France, America, and Prussia were harassing the Japanese nation.

"So who is it, dude? Who are you?"

"_Oui, oui_, tell us."

"Wait, let's see if the awesome me can figure it out!"

England sighed, pushing past the annoying trio and welcoming the shorter nation into the house. "Please, come in. As you probably know, there is a bit of an issue…"

That was when England noticed the worried look on the Asian's face.

Japan's eyes were flitting between the four nations in front of him, finally coming to rest of England.

"Um, pardon my asking," Japan said, "but you're not France-san, are you?"

England blinked._ Is Japan… is still Japan?_ Looking closely at the nation in front of him, England replied, "Uh, no, I'm not…"

And at that answer, Japan's expression turned not to one of shock, but to one of guilt.

"I- I am sorry," he said, bowing slightly, "I did not think this would happen."

"What do you mean?" England asked apprehensively.

Japan looked guiltily at the four nations in front of him before replying.

"This is all my fault."

* * *

><p><strong>Heh heh... look, I have PLOT!<strong>

**Alright, now for any non-English stuff**

**_Oui_ = Yes  
><strong>**_Moi_ = Me  
><strong>**_Mon ami_ = My friend  
><strong>**_Angleterre_ = England  
><strong>**_Am_é_rique _= America**

**And that's that. So, please let me know what you think (about the story and the genre-thing I mentioned at the beginning).**

** I really hope you guys are enjoying the story.**


	6. In Which Some Things Are Kinda Explained

**And I'm back.**

**I'm extremely sorry for the long wait. This chapter just didn't want to be written.**

**Now I'm not really proud of this latest installment in AGA (A General Agreement), but what can you do? I tried my best. Oh, and I found Japan SO DIFFICULT to write, so if it seems a little OOC, I'm sorry.**

**And IMPORTANT NOTICE. I'm gone to England for my University training camp for the next while, and then after that I start classes back here in Canada. So updates may be few and far in between. I'll keep trying to write, but I don't know how much time I'll have between classes, soccer, and homework.**

**Warnings: Swearing (lots of it near the end), and, uh, some mentions of pairings (but only for amusement so no hate).**

**Disclaimer: Let me look at the list of things I own... a stuffed polar bear, a half-finished soda in the fridge, and, would you look at that, NOT Hetalia. Ain't that a surprise.**

**Enjoy! And please Review (I love what you guys have to say!).**

* * *

><p>This was never Japan's intention. He hadn't planned for this happen. He didn't even know this would be the outcome until he was standing in front of France – who was actually England – and realized with a shock that <em>kami-sama<em>_, this is all my fault._

Of course, he kept his face blank, read the atmosphere, and quietly tried to tell England that he was sorry for his mistake.

But England didn't seem to get what Japan was trying to say.

"What do you mean?" the British nation had asked.

Japan had not wanted to answer that, seeing as the four nations in front of him were now giving him their undivided attention. Japan didn't like being at the center of things – he'd much rather stay on the side and make silent observations while drinking green tea.

But no, he had to tell them. It was his mistake, and therefore he had to own up to the problem. It was his duty.

"This is all my fault."

Their reactions, of course, were interesting. Expressions ranging from shock to confusion decorated the four nation's faces. England even took a step back, as if Japan had physically moved him.

Japan, however, merely felt guilty.

Who would have known that his idea would fail so drastically?

England's expression clearly demanded an explanation. But before Japan could even begin to justify his blunder, the nation that looked like Prussia ran down the hall yelling something along the lines of "Guess what, guys?! The awesome me figured out this unawesome mystery and IT'S ALL JAPAN'S FAULT! HA!".

Japan, who felt pretty uncomfortable after hearing that outburst, watched as the Prussian ran into a room off the hallway. The Asian also came to the conclusion that the ex-nation obviously had not switched, which made sense according to Japan's theory. He decided to confirm this with England.

"England-san, I take it that Prussia is still Prussia," he asked, looking back at the still-confused-and-wary nation.

"Uh, yes, he is," England replied. "But shouldn't you already know that, seeing as you, uh… caused it?"

The nation standing slightly to the left of England spoke up. "Yeah, dude, what's up with that? You saying that you're to blame for all of this stuff?"

Japan took a closer at the nation who had just spoken. He recognized the speech pattern, and so he assumed the nation to be America, however, he couldn't immediately identify the body.

"America-san, I am sorry for the inconvenience I've caused," Japan said softly, bowing slightly in the taller nation's direction. He then looked and England and the nation he assumed to be France (seeing as it was England's body). "England-san, France-san, I sincerely apologize for my mistake."

"And would you care to explain what this _mistake_ is?" England asked.

"_Oui_, and please tell us it's a mistake that can be _fixed_," France added.

Japan felt extremely awkward, and the looks he was receiving only made him more ill at ease. He was not used to this kind of attention. He actually tried to avoid these kind of situations whenever possible. But he couldn't avoid this – no, this was something he had to face here and now.

"Let us go and sit down," he said, delaying the inevitable explanation.

And that's how Japan found himself sitting on the couch in the living room, surrounded by nine (_nine!_) nations who were all giving him their undivided attention.

It was like a nightmare for the shy and reserved nation. Japan desperately wished to be anywhere but here. He quickly glanced at the surrounding nations before lowering his eyes and staring at the ground between his feet.

The ground was nice. It didn't stare accusingly at the Asian or demand anything from him. It just _was_. Japan liked the ground. He decided the ground was his friend.

"Ahem," Germany coughed, and Japan looked up at the European nation. He found it slightly creepy that his large and intimidating companion was now occupying Italy's small and unthreatening body. Meanwhile, the Italian, who was in Germany's body, had taken the seat beside the German and was absentmindedly twiddling his thumbs.

"So," Germany prompted, seeing that he had Japan's attention. "What exactly happened? Why have we all switched?"

"And more importantly," China said from across the room, "how do we change back?"

Japan looked back at his ground-friend. He found that looking at the smooth wood helped calm his rising anxiety. Taking a deep breath, the Asian began to speak.

"I was building a device," he said, refusing to look up at the nations around him. "It was a device that was supposed to facilitate communication between nations. It would allow us to talk to each other whenever contact was required."

"So, like, a cell phone," America said.

"Better than a cell phone," Japan retorted gently, glancing at the American. "It would be faster and more efficient… and it could work anywhere at anytime."

"So, like, an awesome cell phone," Prussia said, looking intrigued.

Japan sighed, finding it difficult to explain the complexities behind his idea to these… less-than-knowledgeable nations. "Yes, Prussia-san, it could be like a cell phone."

"An _awesome_ cell phone."

Japan was beginning to feel a bit exasperated. "_Hai_... an _awesome_ cell phone." He couldn't believe he had just called his intricate device a cellular telephone.

"So this is all brilliant and everything," England cut in, giving Prussia and America annoyed looks, "but how does this cell-phone-thing apply to our current _situation_?" He directed the question at Japan, who had returned his gaze to the floor.

Japan took a couple of calming breaths before answering. "The device..." he began hesitantly, "would connect the nations on a very elaborate and fundamental scale." Japan looked away from the supportive view of the ground and at the confused faces of the surrounding nations.

Obviously no one knew what he was talking about.

The Asian nation sighed, trying to think of a better way to explain the intricacy of his device. "It would be a unique piece of technology that would connect to each nation on a level that is…" he trailed off, noticing the still-mystified expressions around him.

_Very well, then, I'll just come right out and say it…_

"The device would connect the nations on a _genetic_ scale," Japan said, internally cringing at his wording. It wasn't _quite_ what he wanted to say, but the explanation would have to do.

"Ve~, so like, the DNA stuff?" Italy asked, feeling pretty proud of himself for knowing that.

"_Hai_… the DNA… stuff."

"So you're telling us," England said sceptically, "that you've been messing with our _genetic code_?"

Japan shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "…perhaps… a little…"

There was a moment of silence. Then….

"Dude…" America stated, wide-eyed, "that… is… SO COOL!"

"America, you git, this isn't something to be happy about."

"But Iggy, you don't understand. Japan could totally make us into real, live super-he–"

"Don't bloody call me Iggy!"

"But dude…"

And by this point, everyone was talking.

Japan desperately tired to use his ninja skills to render himself invisible. He didn't want to be here anymore. The Japanese nation knew that in a few moments the others would calm down and then he'd be at the center of attention again. Then he'd have to explain himself. And he'd have to justify his actions and defend his device and he'd have to explain how _it all went wrong_. The Asian looked down at his ground-friend, wishing that the nations around him could be as calm and understanding as his wooden companion.

It was China who brought the impromptu meeting back under control. (Germany had tried, but he just wasn't as commanding as he used to be when he looked like Italy.)

"Aiyah! You guys are like little school children! We need to focus, aru!"

China's condescending tone coupled with Russia's large and imposing body did the trick. England and America's heated argument cooled down, Russia's creepy laughter (he was sitting in the corner watching everyone with an eerie smile) faded away, Italy stopped telling Germany and Prussia about the history of pasta, and France finally pulled away from Canada, who blushed and hid his face behind his hands.

England gave the two French-speaking nations a suspicious glare. "Were you two just…" he trailed off at France's smirk. "Never mind, I don't want to know."

France merely ohonhonhon'ed and shifted closer to the Canadian.

Japan watched the nations with mild interest, intrigued about North-American/European relationships, but truthfully he just wanted to delay the inevitable onslaught of questions. His observing regretfully came to an end when the room's occupants focused (once again) on the Asian.

And Japan decided that this day couldn't really get much worse.

"So, Japan," Russia said, fixing the reserved nation with a powerful look, "the messing around with our DNA is a… _nice_ and _interesting_ thing," Japan knew that Russia did not truly mean nice and interesting, "but we can all ignore that since you can _fix_ this, no?"

Russia's tone of voice dared Japan to say anything otherwise.

The Japanese nation shifted awkwardly in his seat, thoughts focusing on Russia's question. He quickly tried to weigh in all the factors that could lead to reversing this current situation. If the device could cause the nations to switch bodies, then it should – theoretically – be able to change them back.

At least, Japan hoped that was the case.

Taking a deep breath before speaking, the Asian looked across the room at Russia, who merely returned the gaze with an eerie smile.

"I believe," Japan began evenly, trying to ignore the creepy grin on China's face, "that I could manage to reverse this issue in a week's time."

"A _week_?" repeated France, frowning. "I have to live like _this_ for a week?"

"Be grateful, you git" said England, arms crossed in front of his chest. "At least it's not bloody permanent."

"But _Angleterre_…"

"You will just have to cope, like the rest of us."

"But it's not the same for you," France whined. "You have the privilege of being the beautiful _moi_ for a week, whereas I have to be _you_."

"And what is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"You're ugly," France replied blatantly.

"_Excuse me_?"

"You look like an angry leprechaun."

"WHAT?" England spluttered.

"And I don't want to look like an angry leprechaun for a week."

"Oh, so this is all about bloody you now," England managed to grit out between clenched teeth.

"But of course."

"I wish you would just die."

"Now that's a harsh thing to say to your own body," France smirked.

"Just. Shut. Up."

"Um… excuse me," Japan uncomfortably cut in. Although he had been happy that he was no longer the center of attention, he felt it was his duty to try and calm the argument (since his device kind of started it).

Seeing that he had managed to gather the two European's attention, Japan continued with what he was about to say. "If it is really that much trouble, I think I could manage to have the device ready in four days."

There was a short bout of silence that followed Japan's statement. The reserved nation gratefully took a moment to take a deep, calming breath. Japan was finding that his internal sense of balance was being constantly thrown off-kilter by these chaotic nations.

The silence was broken by the happy-go-lucky Italian.

"Ve~ Japan, you're so great!"

"Uh, _arigatou_, Italy-chan." Japan couldn't help but smile slightly at the sight of Germany's body bouncing excitedly up and down on the couch.

"This is _magnifique_, Japan," France said passionately, "I knew you had it in you. I will soon be reunited with my beauty."

"You bloody frog, it's only a difference of three days."

"Small victories, _mon chère Angleterre_, will win the war," France said with a smirk.

Before England could shoot back a scathing reply, America (who obviously hadn't been paying attention) enthusiastically jumped into the conversation.

"Whoa, dudes, we're at _war_? When? Where? Let me help!"

Japan watched interestedly as England gave the eager American a dubious look. "Bloody hell, lad," the British nation scoffed, "calm down. We're not at war."

"But I've got TANKS!" The American replied excitedly. "I _love_ my tanks!" Then America blinked. "Uh… wait," he looked down at his current body. "Hmm, right. Yo, Canada, you got any tanks I can use?"

Canada bit his bottom lip worriedly. "Um… maybe… but I really don't think that's the best idea…"

"What are you talking about dude? It's a great idea 'cause I'm the h–"

"Would you _please_ all shut up," Germany interrupted, rolling his (Italy's) eyes. "How do you expect us to get _anything_ done when you're all acting like complete _dummkopfs_?"

"Hey," Prussia spoke up obnoxiously, "that's not a very awesome thing to say to your dear, older brother."

Germany gave the smirking Prussian an unimpressed glare. "If you'd be quiet, things would be so much easier."

"Life's no fun if it's easy."

"Ohonhonhon, well said, _mon ami_."

"Of course, I _am_ awesome after all."

"Would you _please_ be quiet!" Germany growled through clenched teeth (though it didn't quite have the desired effect in Italy's feeble body).

"No can do, _bruder_, the awesome me cannot be silenced!"

And as Prussia and France continued to laugh – trading jokes at the expense of the other nations – Japan could tell that his German friend was nearing the end of his patience.

France chuckled loudly.

"I am so glad you decided to come," the French nation said, giving Prussia a slap on the back. "You have managed to make this horrendous experience just a little more bearable."

"Ha, well it should be expected that I make things more awesome," Prussia replied haughtily.

"_Oui oui__,_ with the two of us, things will always have a spark of something _spéciale_."

"Yep. Instant awesome, just add Prussia," the albino declared loudly.

"Ah, do not forget about the beautiful _moi_," France said. "Oh, and _chère_ _Espagne_ as well, we must not forget his contribution to _notre_ _splendeur_."

"Ya, Spain is really missing out on this awesomeness. He would love this."

"Ve~, he's probably with _fratello_ right now!" Italy exclaimed excitedly from across the room. Then a slight frown appeared on the Italian's face. "Oh… _fratello_ is going to be soooo angry when he sees me…"

Japan noticed that Germany had long ago given up on regaining control of the conversation.

"Yeah, Romano might be pissed, but Spain will probably laugh his ass off," Prussia grinned.

"How true. Oh, if only our dear _Espagne_ were here with us…" France trailed off with a dramatic sigh.

And that was when a happy, vibrant jingle sounded through the room. Everyone was quiet for a moment as they listened to the out-of-place music.

"Oh, that's my phone~," Italy chirped, smiling brightly (which looked extremely awkward on Germany's face). Reaching into his pocket, the Italian brought out the small, humming device.

"Who's calling, aru?" China asked as Italy flipped the phone to look at the screen.

"Oh, it's my _fratello_," Italy said with a smile. "Isn't that a funny~, we were just talking about him."

"So, uh, dude, you gonna answer?" asked America. The cell phone continued to hum.

"Ve~, right."

And as Italy went to answer his phone, Japan realized something.

"Wait, Italy-chan," he spoke up just before the Italian pressed the answer-call button. "Shouldn't you let Germany-san answer the phone?"

"Uh… why?" Italy asked, finger hovering over the button.

"Yes, why?" Germany echoed, looking unhappy.

"Well, because you two have switched bodies, so your voices have changed," Japan explained, "if you answer the phone, Italy-chan, your _nii-san_ will think you're Germany."

"Oh… Japan, you're so smart," Italy said after a moment's pause. Smiling, the Italian, turned to face Germany. "Here you go." He handed the phone to the reluctant German. "Remember to be like me, ve~!"

Germany looked at the phone as if he'd been handed a live grenade.

"Uh, dude, you're gonna have to answer it," America advised casually, "or else you're gonna miss the call."

"I would _prefer_ to miss the call," Germany grumbled unhappily, but pressed the answer-call button all the same. Taking a deep breath and briefly closing his eyes, the German brought the small device up to the said of his face. "Hello f-_fratello_, what is going on… _veeee_..." he trailed off, cringing.

Beside him, Italy smiled and gave him a double thumbs up sign.

Across the room, France and Prussia 'quietly' laughed their asses off.

The remainder of the room's occupants watched in silence as Germany listened to the other end of the conversation.

And as the seconds wore on, Germany's expression became more and more confused. Frowning, he titled his head slightly to the side and gave the phone a suspicious look.

"Um, Spain, why are you talking on South It– eh, _fratello's_ phone?"

Prussia and France perked up.

"It's Spain? Awesome! I was totally just talking about him!"

"Ohonhonhon, what a fabulous coincidence. We should invite him over," France said.

Ignoring Germany's gesture for silence, England joined the conversation. "You may certainly _not_ invite him over. This is _my_ house, you gits, and I do not want another annoying nitwit showing up."

"Ha, dude," America laughed, "you just said nitwit."

"You shut up," England retorted irritably.

"You can't tell me to shut up, I'm the h–"

"WILL YOU ALL BE QUIET!" Germany yelled, voice breaking on the last word. He had covered the phone's speaker with his hand and was glaring angrily at the room's occupants. "I can't hear a single thing that's being said to me, so _please_, just shut up for a moment."

"Ok, ok," Prussia said, hands out in front of him in a defensive manor. "No need to go all serious on us, _bruder_. We'll stay quiet as long as you put Spain on speakerphone. I wanna hear what he has to say."

Germany gave the albino an annoyed look, but pressed the button for speakerphone all the same.

The first thing everyone in room heard coming over the phone's speakers was a loud and angry voice.

A loud and angry Spaniard's voice.

"…so tell me what the fuck is going on! It's been a whole day now and IT'S STILL FUCKING MESSED UP! This is probably _your_ fault, _fratello_, so FIX IT!"

Then, sounding from a little further off, another voice floated through the phone's speaker. A voice that was slightly higher in pitch and carried a distinct Italian accent.

"Oh, look at you, _mi tomato_, you're angry and red and cute…"

"Shut up, you bastard! And stop making _my_ face smile like that! It's fucking creepy!"

The room's occupants had frozen after the first sentence, looking at the phone in surprise. And the next few sentences had only led to confusion. But after that last sentence, the surprise and confusion gave way to realization. Everyone figured out what had happened to Spain and Romano.

Well, except for America, who had gotten stuck somewhere at confusion.

"So wait…" he whispered theatrically, looking around at the surrounding nations. "Why is Spain swearing so much? Isn't that Romano guy the one with the bad language?"

England looked at the clueless American with disdain. "Really, lad?" he scoffed. "That air-filled brain of yours can't figure it out? They've bloody body-swapped, like the rest of us."

America frowned slightly before a look of realization came over his face. "Ohhhhhh…" he said, dragging out the sound, "_dude_… this is getting _so_ whacked."

The angry Spaniard's voice continued resonating from the phone in Germany's hand. Germany, who had been staring at the cellular device the entire time, looked up with a frown as Italy perked up excitedly on the couch.

"Ve~, _fratello_, you too?" the Italian said, grabbing the phone from Germany and bringing it near his face. "Can you believe it? Isn't this soooo great! I mean it's really scary… but I get to be so big and strong and handsome!"

There was a brief moment of silence, then…

"What the fuck, potato-bastard? Put my _fratello_ back on the phone!"

Italy blinked. "Ve?… but I _am_ your _fratel_–"

"Shut the fuck up. I don't want to hear your _stupid_ German words coming from your _stupid_ German mouth. Put Feliciano back on the phone!"

"But _fratello_, I switched too!" Italy explained earnestly. "I'm in Germany's body right now! Like you are with Spain."

"LIES!" Romano shouted angrily from the phone. "And you fucking shut up about me and that tomato-bastard! I hate that bastard's guts!"

"Ve? I wasn't saying anything about you and–"

"Shut up! I don't care about what you said! I hate him!"

"Oho, so angry, _mi tomato_," Spain could be heard saying from further off. "This isn't what you were like two nights ago when you came over to my house…"

"SHUT UP!"

"… and into my bed…"

"SHUT YOUR FUCKNG MOUTH!"

"… because you said that you _missed_ me, my cute little tomato." Spain finished with what sounded like a smile.

"I'm going to fucking rip out your intestines and strangle you with them," Romano said with a snarl. "And I'll enjoy _every_ minute of it."

Everyone in the room was silent except for France, who chuckled slyly and said: "Well he's not denying Spain's words, so I guess that means our Spaniard is getting _somewhere_… if you know what I mean." He finished his statement with some suggestive eyebrow-waggling.

(And the eyebrow-waggling was _quite_ effective thanks to England's _exceptional_ eyebrows.)

Apparently, France's words had carried through to the phone, since there was a moment of stunned silence from Romano. Then the spell of silence was broken and the angry Italian started cursing loudly and colorfully over the phone. "Fuck you! And what the fucking _hell_? Why did I just hear the fucking _scone _ _-bastard_? The _FUCK_?"

Seeming to ignore the excessive swearing, Italy laughed happily. "Oh, haha, no that wasn't mister England, _fratello_, that was France." He bounced up and down excitedly on the couch. "Everyone else, like France and England, is body-switching too! Ve~," Italy then paused as if to consider something. "Oh... right, and, um, _fratello_, you're on speaker phone. So… everybody can hear what you're saying."

And America, being ever-so tactful, decided to add a little something more.

"And dude, from what Spain just said, you're like, totally in _lov–_"

"YOU ALL SHUT THE FUCK UP!"

xXx*xXx

Eventually, after much swearing, laughter and yelling, everyone managed to settle down. Spain ended up taking the phone away from Romano, seeing as the Italian was in no mood to talk civilly with the other nations. And so, once everyone started talking sense, the assembled nations, including Spain and Romano on the cell phone, finally settled on a plan to follow for the next four days.

It was decided – after a vote of 6 to 4 for the proposal – that the nations would try to behave like their body-swapped partner. It would only be for four days, and afterwards, any weird behaviour could be passed off as illness or something. If, after four days, the matter was still not resolved, then the nation's bosses could be notified.

"And dudes, we should totally like, meet up halfway through to make sure no one's messing up too bad," America declared.

"Really? Another meeting in only two days, aru?"

"That… is actually not a bad idea," England concurred. Frowning slightly, he continued. "It would at least let us know if Japan is on track in fixing his _device_."

Japan looked down at his feet. "I will do my best."

"Check it, dudes! Meeting in two days!"

After a bit more planning, it was indeed decided that there would be another meeting – this time at France's place in Paris.

Until then, everyone would return to their current country…

"And I think it would be in our best interest to avoid the countries' leaders, da?" Russia smiled childishly, tilting his head slightly to one side. "Seeing as they might try and make us sign some important… _files_. We would not any _accidental_ declaration of war, now, would we?"

Everyone in the room stared warily at the smiling Russian. Well, everyone except for one happy-go-lucky nation.

"Ve~, war is bad. It's big and scary and loud, and we should make _pasta_, not war. I love pasta~, it's so great! Just like Germany. Germany is great too."

"Oh really?" France smirked knowingly, deciding to ignore Russia's earlier statement. "Great in which _ways_?"

"Ve~, great in every way!" Italy gave a cute, innocent smile.

Despite Germany's warnings to stay quiet, Prussia cackled loudly. "Well tell us, Italy; is West also great in _bed_–"

"_Bruder_!"

"What? The awesome me is curious!"

Germany just gave him a disturbed look. "Why?"

Prussia smiled widely. "Because I need to know these kinds of things. It's my first awesome step in taking over this boring world! My awesomeness shall prevail, bitches!"

…

And so Prussia was banished from any further meetings.

("You can't _banish_ me, I'm too awesome to be banished!")

xXx*xXx

Eventually everyone left, returning to whatever country they had to represent for the next few days. France was left alone at England's house with explicit instructions to not touch anything. (France, of course, began poking various things in the house.)

Nevertheless, the next step in this situation was clear.

Do your best and don't mess up.

* * *

><p><strong>Ugh, that was painful. I had to rip this chapter out of my head. It just didn't want to be written.<strong>

**So, uh, sorry if there was any pairings you didn't like. I try to keep it fairly light-to-invisible, just so I don't rub anyone the wrong way.**

**So, who liked the random Spain and Romano? (My sister convinced me to throw them in there.) And what did you guys think of Japan?**

***cries* The explanation was horrible, I know, I'm sorry. But I didn't want the reason for body-swap to just be "Magic". So I tried something different, but don't really know how well it tuned out. *cries some more***

**I'll keep trying to write this, but I'm finding inspiration difficult to find. Doesn't mean I'll give up, but it might take a while.**

**Favs and Reviews are Love!**


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